


Postcards From Exile

by sharkygal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Decisions, Coming of Age, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Minor Violence, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkygal/pseuds/sharkygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romania, 1996 - the lost summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Disclaimer** : Harry Potter and all related characters, places, etc. belong to J.K. Rowlings. They are not mine. You would have to be crazy to think that. I am not that crazy. This is strictly non-profit, because I would go directly to hell for that. For external use only.

 

o o o

  


_And did you exchange your walk-on part in the war  
for a lead role in a cage?_  
(Pink Floyd - "Wish You Were Here")  


  


  


_I'm not all right,  
but I'm okay_  
(Nothingface - "Murder Is Masturbation")  


 

o o o

_Dear Mum & Dad (see? I'm using the Muggle picture cards you gave me, as promised),_

_Romania is fine, I suppose. Still don't see why Ron gets to stay with Bill while I got sent all the way off to here, but you already heard my arguments & ~~don't care~~ are differently opinioned. But it's nice seeing Charlie,  & everyone here seems an all right sort. Charlie says to tell you I'm not being allowed by the dragons, & that he's feeding me loads of nutritious food that isn't too spicy, & making sure I get up early & wash behind my ears & all that. Which is rubbish. My ears are filthy, & I sleep 'til supper, which has been nothing but Chocolate Frogs & butterbeer. You should send for me soon, or I may perish. You don't want to risk my health, do you?_

_XOXO to all back home. Tell Ron I said ~~he's a big prat~~ hello._

_Refugee ever faithful,  
Ginevra Weasley_

o o o

Ginny finally got the camp's communal owl to take her picture card...thingy, but only through threat (desperate and unconvincing) and bribery (heavy, also desperate).

Owls, it would seem, hated the silly things -- God only knew why. You'd think they would appreciate them, being just sleek little scraps of pretty paper rather than Marika's two-foot-long novels to home or the Howlers Nicu bombarded his friends with for fun, but apparently not. Did owls get paper-cuts? Maybe that was a concern.

Ginny shivered, and hugged herself, tucking her hands into her armpits. Summer hadn't quite infiltrated the Carpathians, especially in the thicker forests, and she could feel what wind there was pierce right through her clothes (hand-me-down red jumper, probably Percy's, jeans stolen from Ron that fit alarmingly well).

Romania, away from the Order, was not where she'd envisioned her summer holiday.

"Oy, Ginny," called Jaswinder from London (that's how she thought of most of the camp; Jase-from-Toronto, Reiko-from-Blackpool, Panos-from-Athens). "You seen Charlie skulking about?"

Sunlight caught Jaswinder's hair as she tromped up the hill, and flashed vivid unnatural violet, before she shoved it back behind her ears. A fierce impression of Tonks flickered in Ginny's mind, then was gone, and homesickness was like a sudden shaft through her heart, so strong it made her stomach clench around the feeling.

Ginny shook her head, tasted sour longing. "No," she said, coming out of herself. "No, not since breakfast."

"Damn," Jas frowned, and pulled her cardigan straight, looking off at the tree-line as if he might be hiding there, like a squirrel, just to spite them. "Well, if he turns up, tell him the Longhorns from the meadow are having a go and he's missing all the fun."

Somehow 'fun' would not be her first choice to describe fighting dragons, but Ginny nodded politely. "Of course."

Jaswinder grinned, white-toothed and charmingly crooked, then clapped Ginny on the shoulder. Admirably, Ginny hid her wince. "Right then, I'm off -- laters, love!" she waved, and jogged away without waiting for an answer, long black skirt swishing. The little chimes on her golden chain belt made shimmery jangling sounds like fairy bells.

Barking mad, the lot. Probably why she got on so well with them.

There really wasn't much to do at the camp, when the others were gone. Never quiet, thanks to the funny little Muggle music receptor Panos and Reiko set up by the fire pit, usually set to receive what she was told was called 'punking rock', wholly unlike anything on the WWN. Shame it was all in Russian -- would give Mum absolute fits back home (perhaps at supper tonight, Ginny would ask Reiko if punking had come to Britain yet).

She fiddled with the volume control, and tried not to think of what intrigue the Order must be managing these days, forcing herself to concentrate instead on the great dilemma: Which Distraction Next?

Shall it be reading, knitting, or suicide?

"Careful, might freeze like that," came a voice from directly behind her.

Ginny didn't startle. After years of both brothers and You-Know-Who, she hardly had any nerves left. She rolled her eyes instead, and turned around, hand cocked on hip. "What are you blithering about, Charlie?"

"Your face," he smiled; she thought it must be an insult, until he unexpectedly continued the thought. "You looked so serious, I hardly recognized you. Had me wondering, 'when'd Percy grow his hair so long'?" the last delivered with wicked relish, and he chucked her under the chin.

 _That_ was an insult. "Prat!" she growled, and socked him in the belly so hard, he laughed between wheezes. "Jas came looking for you. There's a row between some dragons."

"When isn't there? It's mating season, they're hormonal buggers," Charlie rubbed his stomach thoughtfully. "You hit just like Bill, y'know."

"Should, he taught me."

Sneaky-quick, she went to demonstrate once more. He caught her hands this time, and began to spin her round and round with him like she used to make Ron, 'til she was dizzy and shrieking with laughter. _Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies_... "Oh Charlie, stop, please, oh I'll be sick," she giggled and gasped, and he obliged, crashing to the ground with her, to lay side-by-side panting for breath.

Sometimes Romania could be a bit of all right.

After a second, Charlie propped himself up on one elbow, to face her. "How are you, Ginny?"

 _Left out. Useless. Bloody freezing._ "Fine."

The sky was pale grayish-blue. She'd like to think of it as 'silvery', but it was really just gray. It would be hot in London right then, probably clear. Goosebumps pebbled the skin beneath her jumper sleeves, and she sat up, locking her teeth to keep them from chattering. The grass was almost as cold as the wind.

"Bit chilly out today, isn't it?" he said and sat up as well, as if reading her thoughts.

 _What do you mean, ' **today** '?_ As if he would know, in his nice warm rugby shirt, scarf, and ever-present red windcheater. "Mm," was all Ginny said, vaguely. Political exiles were, of course, aloof and blasé, just by nature. Plus, it made you seem more posh. At least, that's what Parvati and Lavender told her.

But they were probably full of it. Charlie gave her a sparkly-eyed look, that didn't seem very bowled over by her sophistication. "Aren't you opinionated?"

Brothers were so stupid. "Oh, get off," Ginny gave him a shove with her feet, smiling.

"What?" said Charlie very innocently. "I was being perfectly genuine -- lovely trainers, by the way. Most redheads can't pull off that shade."

Ginny blushed, and tucked her knees to her chest, for warmth as well as to hide her blindingly pink high-top shoes. "I was _trying_ to spell them red," she muttered. "It just came out a little...off, is all. I'm afraid they'll grow tails or start talking if I do anything else to them."

Charlie nodded absently, having stopped paying attention by then, to what she was saying at least. Instead, he reached out to trace a strangely perpendicular set of scars along her left shoe's toe. She looked at him curiously. "These were my old trainers," he said.

"Y'know, I'd thought maybe. You've the twins' build, and I wear their size," she held one foot up to the light, as if she hadn't already examined each in unhappily pink detail. "Wish I'd got the height as well. Ron says it all went to my feet instead," Ginny made a face, and sighed. "How'd you know it was them, anyway? Didn't think even Seeker eyes were that good."

"If only! I'd be playing for England," he chuckled. "I recognized the brand, and those scratches besides. Newborn manticore did it, broke my foot as well -- I never could get the marks to fade, no matter what I cast," Charlie rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair up even further. "But no wonder your spell got so arsed up! Those manky old things are scarcely more than magic now. I thought they were long dead and buried."

Ginny kept her face blank, brain whirring to recall if it had been summer hols...two years back? When she'd dug them out of the attic, because she nor Fred nor George could find a reasonably intact pair of their castoffs. That had been a long afternoon, scavenging through the twins' closet (they, mirrors of triumph, then devastation, together producing a single decent, mismatched set, and broke her heart with love). But it'd been a longer one choking on antique dust, and suffocated by three generations of clothes; her grandmother's, her mother's, and all of theirs, the kids.

All of it better than having to ask Mum and Dad for another new pair she would outgrow too fast.

There were just things you all felt and knew, growing up like they had. The haze in Charlie's eyes said he was thinking the same. So Ginny made no comment. Sometimes nothing was the best you could say.

In the distance, there was a great screeching roar, and some faint shouting. Charlie hopped to his feet, and brushed himself off. "Well, Pinky, that's my cue -- dragons wait for no man," she shivered through a smirk, and he quickly stripped the scarf from his own neck, to loop around hers; hesitated only a moment to drop a kiss on her cheek. "See you later, Gin."

His scarf was soft, rainbow-colored, and still warm. It smelled like him. "See you," she echoed, putting fingertips to the place he'd kissed, finding it freckled, still barely moist.

Charlie was already walking away, but he paused, to glance over his shoulder at her. "I'd rather be there with them, too, you know."

Blood rushed to her face in a fierce, arterial wave. He didn't see it, like she didn't, but she wondered if he could feel like she did, the heat coming from her. Ginny burrowed her chin deeper into his scarf, and watched him go, ignoring the tight ball of...whatever sitting in her stomach. Charlie still wore Converse. Always black.

o o o

  


  
_If I could count  
from then 'til now  
I'd count too high  
I can't help but think about the meantime_  
(Phantom Planet - "The Meantime")  
  



	2. II

**Note** : Footnotes at the bottom. Oh my God, there are footnotes. Why?

 

o o o

  
_Is this how it feels  
when you don't even fit into your own skin?_  
(Thursday - "Signals Over The Air")   


o o o

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Hope Egypt is nice. Also hope it's warmer there than Romania, which shouldn't be hard as there are warmer dungeons at Durmstrang currently. Isn't there ever summer here? It's not **that** far from England. You should come visit  & freeze with us soon, because Charlie & I may be gone shortly (me if Mum & Dad would only regain senses, Charlie because he makes fun of me & I will kill him). All of the people here are mad, but I think you'd like Marika -- she's pierced, too, only in different places that I'm not sure you have. Don't get your hopes ~~or anything else up~~ , though, you big tart. You ~~unfortunately have a penis~~ aren't her type._

 _Miss you & the others. Be careful not to get cursed or anything. Oh & just in case Mum & Dad didn't pass it on, please mention to Ron ~~what an enormous toss he is~~ that I'm thinking of him._

 _Getting frostbite in the middle of bloody July,  
your sister (Ginevra Weasley)_

o o o

A few things that Ginny had learned, since her arrival in Romania:

Apparently there could never be too much soup or eggs -- occasionally together in the same dish. Sour cream was also in good supply, though that was fairly tasty.

No one actually wrestled the dragons, though Nicu would probably if the others would let him.

And the green shoots of sexual intrigue Ginny had noticed just forming at Hogwarts were in full bloom there at the camp.

Nothing was outright. You just saw it after awhile.

Ginny kept a log of observation (in her head; she didn't write anymore), like they did of the dragons and their habits. Reiko wore feathers and a lock of Marika's hair on the leather strip at her throat, smudged lavender lipstick on the side of her neck. Jase watched in equal amounts skinny Panos shirtless in the mornings, and Jas's long maple-icing legs, revealed as absently in the firelight as they would be covered because Jaswinder only thought of dragons.

Nicu, who was mostly like Jas, but flirted with all of them, because he loved everyone at least a little.

It was harder to tell where Charlie fit in. He was such a part of them, the Weasley institution, that it was a like kissing her elbow to measure him, out of their light. Like herself. Only except that she didn't have a place in group politics at all.

She might wonder why that role always fell to her hands, but the answer would probably just depress her, so she did silly pointless crafts instead. Like the misshapen hat she was knitting (present for Neville), or trying to, at least, when the owls would let her. "Shoo, Drag1," said Ginny, waving him off.

Drag flitted halfheartedly away, for only the barest necessary second, before returning to tangle and pull at her yarn with his claws. "Cut it out, I mean it!" she swatted at him again, and the owl's reply was to dart forward and sink his beak into the soft flesh of her earlobe, _hard_ ; Ginny lurched backwards with a startled cry.

Snakebite quick, Nicu snatched him by the feet, and yanked him off of her. "Bad boy! Very naughty owl. There will be no attacking little girls here," he scolded, unmindful of Drag's screeching, flapping protest -- Ginny shuddered, violently glad he'd still had his thick dragon handler's gloves on (for both their sakes). "Unless it is by big charming wolves, of course."

Nicu gave her an easy, long-lashed wink, and suddenly Ginny was intensely absorbed in checking her bitten ear, willing the signature Weasley blush to die, die, die. Her fingers came away slick, and cranberry red.

"Silivasi, you devil," as ever, Reiko seemed to appear out of nowhere, and flopped down beside Ginny, one arm already slipping around her shoulders. "Are you all right, Ginny love?" Reiko smoothed Ginny's hair out of the way for a better look, and winced. "Horrid old vulture. What's his problem?"

The lush scent of mimosa water and ginger candy swelled like pomegranates, dizzying, and Ginny breathed in deeply. If she tried, she could almost smell Marika's spiced lotion fingerprints on Reiko's cheek. "I don't know," said Ginny, wiping her bloodied hand on the grass. "He's just mental."

"Maybe he was envious of your very cheerful shoes," said Panos shyly, though his eyes gleamed. Ginny threw a pinecone at him.

"Come on, let's get you patched up," said Reiko, and led her to the first aid tent, which was less commonly referred to as Jase's tent; Reiko burst past the door flap, shouting. "Hey, Warrick! Where d'you keep that purple-foggy rubbish?"

"Sorry, there's only me in here, but I've got some of the 'rubbish' on brewing," it was dark inside and Ginny's eyes took a moment to adjust. Once they did, she saw Charlie, sitting on the floor in only his jeans, with a small cauldron haloed by an aubergine mist. There were long, wicked gouges carved down his back.

Ginny gasped, but Reiko hardly seemed fazed at all, breezing right past him to the gigantic medical cabinet. "Never mind, you're probably going to need most of that. We'll use the little disposable what's-its instead," she tossed the cabinet doors open, rifling through the shelves inside, and teased him over her shoulder while she searched. "Gorgeous scratches. Cut yourself shaving?"

"Ah, you know it was your razor wit that did it," he grinned sheepishly. "With a little help."

"Cross wankers. Honestly, you'd think the dragons would be cheerier from all that shagging -- ah! Here we are," Reiko emerged holding a miniature cotton-tipped wand, and a small tube filled with some kind of glowing purple liquid. "Poke this little stick into the vial, and give it a good shake, so the potion soaks through. Then just swab it on your ear, and Bob's your uncle, you're good as new. Okay?"

"Thanks," Ginny accepted both parts from her without looking, too distracted by the red oozing channels in her brother's skin.

Reiko patted Ginny's cheek, and smiled. "Well, the fellows and I are due for a spot of dragon ward renewal at town, so I've got to be off," she glanced at Charlie, very purposefully casual. "You going to be all right, Weasley?"

He waved her off, not quite able to stifle his wince. "Go on, I'm fine, I'm bloody spectacular."

"You make a terrible patient, you know that?" Reiko winked, and blew them both kisses. "Take care, children. Behave, don't die, and watch out for the nasty owls."

Then she was gone, as abruptly as she had shown up. Charlie shook his head, and adjusted the fire beneath his cauldron. Its flames were a soft, shimmering green that reminded her of Potions class (it wasn't a completely horrible association, strangely). "So what's this about owls?" he asked.

Oh...that. "It's nothing. Drag's just acting a nutter today, is all," Ginny fiddled with the tiny wand, voice dropping to a disgruntled mutter. "Apparently has some sort of mental instability about knitting."

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "It's not today," he spoke up, inordinately grave. "Something's been off with the owls lately, _all_ of them."

A creeping sense of unease prickled along the back of her neck. She couldn't have said why, exactly. "Do you think it's the dragons, spooking them maybe?"

"No, they're used to one another. Longhorns don't care for owl meat," said Charlie, and gave the potion one final stir, before putting his fire out. "At least, they don't usually. That's the other thing -- the dragons are acting queer as well."

The disquieted feeling had trickled down, to sit heavy, cold, as marble in the drop of her belly. Far from any blush (Weasley or otherwise), she knew she would be pale, freckles standing out like dark constellations. "What's happening, do you think?" she sounded small and young, embarrassing to her own ears; Charlie craned round to look at her.

"I don't know," he shrugged, eyes distant and troubled. "It's only a feeling I've got. Something's not right."

There was a basket of clean, white rags off to the side. Charlie grabbed one, dipped it into the medical potion, and twisted to reach over his shoulder, where his cuts were. His face contorted with pain, as he struggled to swipe at them. Ginny threw the set of vial and disposable wand onto Jase's futon, and knelt behind her brother. "Here, you silly git," she said, taking the rag from him. "Let me do it."

"Cheers, Pinky, you're a good girl," he said, then sighed as she began bathing his many gashes. "A _very_ good one."

She worked in mostly silence. The potion was sticky, and had a slight sweet fragrance, like milk, Charlie's skin. His body was warm even on such a chilly day, as if it had retained all the heat of his thousand burns from years past, and his muscles would flutter gently sometimes, under her careful touch.

There were loads of those muscles, too, through his broad shoulders and back. Thick, sinewy columns on either side of his spine, tapering only the slightest into his waist, the dense core of his strength (and he was tremendously strong; she remembered once long past, him with a twin under each arm and Bill on his back, racing them all 'round the yard).

Never had she been as aware of his solid space, her own, or the empty ones between them.

"That feels lovely," murmured Charlie, barely audible but she thought she could've read the vibration, resonating deep in his chest and echoed soundlessly in hers. "You're really good at this."

"Practice makes perfect. One of you lot was always ripping off half his skin, playing Quidditch," strangely dry-mouthed, she fought to swallow. "Somebody had to be mediwitch."

"You made a decent Seeker as well, as I recall."

"I wasn't awful," said Ginny evenly, trying not to let show how thrilled she felt at the recognition. "I'll make a better Chaser."

It was a bit funny, how you could know someone, and not even need to see their face to know the moment they smiled. She could feel it come off him, like sound waves. "You know you'll be brill, whatever you play. Quidditch might not have got us all equally, but you've got your share," Charlie flexed his shoulder blades gingerly, testing them. "How's it look?

"Terrible, absolutely awful, you could die any second. The mere sight of it's scarred me for life."

"Oh, well, just as long as it's all right."

His skin was knitting itself back together before her eyes, thankfully better than she had ever managed with needles and yarn. In only a matter of minutes, all that remained were crinkled, silvery lines, to go with the multitudes already crisscrossing his torso.

A low, deep tingling had begun in her fingertips; examining them, she found only baby pink skin. The potion had dissolved all her calluses. "Weird," muttered Ginny. On impulse, she drew her hand over his healed flesh, feeling smooth new scar tissue in hypersensitive detail. A subtle shudder ran through Charlie.

The tingling redoubled, nothing to do with magic. "Thanks, Gin. Madam Pomfrey would be proud," he said, a touch hoarsely; Charlie shifted around to look at her more easily, his eyes instantly drawn to her bloodied neck and ear. "Here," he took a clean rag, and used one corner to mop up the last few smoking purple drops from the cauldron bottom. "Hold still."

Charlie reached out, and she wordlessly swept her hair back, holding it out of the way for him to dab, dab, dab at her ear.

His fingers were large, somewhat square, surprisingly agile. But they were also very gentle, which was not surprising at all because Charlie was nothing if not gentle. It was what animals sensed, that drew them to him.

The potion's sweet stench was almost overwhelming, so near to her nose -- Ginny's eyes watered from it, and the sting. She didn't know quite where to look, with him turned round now and bent in, only inches away. It was probably the closest she had ever looked at her brother face-to-face, half-naked, and she noticed that his eyes were soft, murky blue, banded by her own cinnamon hazel.

She stared resolutely at his forehead, aware of her pulse, the sounds both of them made inhaling, exhaling.

"There," his voice drew her attention back; she startled herself by looking him directly head-on. He startled a little as well, and accidentally brushed her throat with his knuckles as he drew his hand away. "Sorry."

The moment lingered, humming in gazes carefully dropped, shared breaths. A sudden, vivid image of Charlie palming her breast seared her, and she felt her face burn along with her ear, a rush of blazing cold shimmering through her whole body. "Er...right, thanks a heap," she scrambled to her feet, blood pounding. "Feels loads better already."

Charlie smiled, bemused. "Yes, I've always thought the ability to _heal_ was an excellent quality in a _healing_ draught."

Ginny laughed, and was highly impressed with herself that it was not a more hysterical reaction. "Right. Well. Knitting awaits! Even if it is stupid and boring and Neville's hat looks more like a cat jumper than anything," she tripped over her feet, stumbling toward the tent flap, and escape. "Bye!"

"Ginny, hold on," he called out. Achingly close to scot-free, but somehow she coaxed her legs into stopping, her face into some kind of normal expression. She sneaked a tiny glance over her shoulder, and saw Charlie pulling on an old green tee-shirt. Dim filtered sunlight arced across his bare chest and stomach, and caught the fine hairs dusted over his pectorals; a thin trail of auburn led down from his navel, to vanish in the shadowed hollow behind his zipper.

Bloody hell. She needed to lie down, and...jab her eyes with sticks or something. "Yeah?"

His hair was messy, static-charged, alternately standing on end and falling into his eyes. Rather like Harry's, which was not a helpful connection at the moment. "You might want to check your tent," said Charlie, far too innocently. "Difficult to say what might have wandered in."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Without wasting a millisecond, she raced from Jase's tent to her own. "If you have transfigured my pillow into some type of animal again, I will hex off your bollocks and strangle you with them!" she screamed behind her.

She did not recklessly throw open the door flap, as she so desired to. Life with Fred and George had taught her caution (that, and to stop, drop, and roll). First, she put her good ear to it, listening for any telltale growling or rustling about. Satisfied on that account, Ginny warily poked her head inside -- and gasped.

At the foot of her bed were a pair of suede boots; light clover-honey brown, embroidered with a rainbow of runes and trimmed in creamy fur. They were...beautiful. Amazing. Ginny traced their butter-soft curves, and let out the long shaky breath she hadn't been conscious of holding. There was a card inside one.

 _Was accosted by women's shoe personnel. Knew you had enormous feet, so thought you might like these.  
Love, Charlie_

The boots would be a perfect fit, she could tell it just by looking at them.

 _Love, Charlie._

Ginny ran back out, so focused on finding Charlie and barraging him with hugs and excited squealing, that she almost didn't notice the heavy white flakes falling thickly all around her. Then she felt them land like cool kisses on her cheeks, trickle icy through her hair, and stopped in her tracks. "Charlie," she shouted, after a shocked moment. "Charlie, come quick!"

It was hardly a second before he appeared, red-cheeked and excited. "Are they all right? The color? I'm not exactly brilliant at shopping..." Charlie's voice faded, the silly grin melting from his face; he stared up at the sky in utter disbelief. "Merlin's bony arse," he said. "It's snowing."

o o o

  
_Goodness knows I saw it coming  
or at least I'll claim I did  
but in truth I'm lost for words_  
(Snow Patrol - "Chocolate")   


 

* * *

1Drag - Sweetheart


	3. III

**Warning** : Round one of horrible Romanian skills! Not much yet, but oh, just you wait.

o o o

  
_Don't make this out  
to be more than  
it isn't_  
(Chevelle - "Don't Fake This")   


o o o

 _Dear ~~Professor~~ ~~Mr.~~ ~~Remus~~ Professor Lupin,_

 _There is snow up to my knees here. More is falling as we speak. It is ~~bloody~~ August. Do you know of any spell that could be responsible for this type of ~~unbelievable bollocks~~ abnormality? Would it have any, er, side effects, you think? ~~Such as sudden, enormously inappropriate sexual interests?~~ I will keep you posted with any further ~~mental deviations~~ developments._

 _Any information you might offer would be deeply appreciated, as would your utmost discretion about this to my parents. They've got enough ~~to be frightened about~~ on their minds as it is. Thank you._

 _Sincerest regards,  
Ginevra Weasley_

 _P.S. - the parcel I sent is Muggle chocolate. It's not ~~entirely~~ a bribe. I just ~~miss all of you a lot~~ know how much you like sweets._

o o o

Marika cast an Impervious charm on Ginny's new boots, so the snow and mud wouldn't ruin them. Sometimes it was very nice, having other women around -- they knew about things like that. The best you could expect from the men were three mismatched pairs of old, holey socks to stick over them (a sweet, though misguided collective effort).

It allowed her to tromp about as she liked, which was something she very, very much liked. Even during freakish pseudo-winters, the Carpathians were a lovely, fascinating place to explore.

Ginny never strayed very far, and was careful to avoid the dragons' territories. She quite enjoyed having all her limbs unburned and undigested, thank you. But the hill-walks gave her a nice bit of exercise, and something to do besides. They were also an excellent way to get some time alone, to think. Or not-think, as the case may be.

There'd been a lot of that lately.

Everyone was more busy than usual these days with the dragons. Norwegian Ridgebacks had begun turning up, drawn by the freakish cold, and now the Longhorns seemed too distracted fighting with each other and fighting the Norwegians to remember what season it was supposed to be.

All the camp was worried, checking how badly their habits were being disrupted, if their chances of successful mating had gone down the toilet entirely. Romanian Longhorns only came into season once every five years -- something like this could severely impact the species.

The camp owls had all deserted within a week of the first snowfall, so Jase and Charlie had had to go to the nearest village earlier, in order to send out more inquiries about The Situation. Of the responses so far, Dumbledore had sent his best wishes but no answers, and word from the Ministry was that they were imagining everything, there was nothing peculiar going on, but if there were, it was a 'weather balloon'. Whatever the hell that was.

She'd given Jase the parcel for Lupin and her latest picture card...thing to send as well. She had her own strings to pull, after all.

Right after everybody had left for the day, so had she.

Today's adventure walk was more pleasant than adventurous, even if it was bloody effing cold and still snowing. Charlie had made her promise not to go out if it were storming, but it only sprinkled the tiniest of flakes, and there hadn't been a blizzard in a fortnight, so she was almost fairly positive that nothing would happen. It wasn't breaking her word, not...completely.

What Charlie didn't know wouldn't hurt either of them.

Ginny had come a bit further out than she'd planned to, but her feet (warm inside those gorgeous boots) seemed to have minds of their own, carrying her onward -- north, deeper into the mountains than she had ever been. Eventually, she stumbled upon a small, ice-glazed clearing. The higher she went, the colder it was, she'd noticed. But wasn't that how it would usually be?

The clearing was quite pretty, like it was covered in glass. Ginny wandered around it, somewhat aimless; balancing along the slick felled logs, hopping from stump to stump, blowing clouds of frozen breath. Not-thinking about her personal disruption that was nothing to do with temperature, and everything with skin, scarred and toughened, nearly tanned from freckles.

It was quiet...quieter than it should have been. Loads of animals lived in the area, so far from most humans. It left a subtle taste of menace zinging in her mouth, like iron.

A stick snapped, disconcertingly loud in the absence, and the bushes at her back shook. Something was there. Wand in hand, Ginny whirled around to face whatever it was; too fast, and one foot shot out from under her, off the stump. There wasn't even time to swear, a half-second moving backwards through space, before she landed, tailbone first, then hit her back -- striking the ground so hard, it forced the air from her lungs in a great, misty huff.

Ginny laid there a moment, too shocked to move, gasping. Colors swam in front of her eyes, and agony sizzled along her nerve endings, swelling. _Vulnerable_ , her body screamed, and she gripped her wand tighter, held it out before her, lifting her head (though it made her stomach heave) to scan for danger.

The something crashed through, and bolted straight toward her, then over, leaping her without hesitation. Hooves passed inches above her face, and she felt the air whoosh by, needle-cold; one struck her wand, knocking it from her hand, and Ginny screamed in pain as well as fright. Once it had cleared her, Ginny rolled as quickly on she could onto her stomach, and pushed herself up onto elbows to see what it was. She barely caught a glimpse before it vanished into the brush, opposite her.

A young, skinny reddish-colored buck, with the same sort of lumpy look many of the animals had, caught halfway between shedding and growing winter coats. Obviously scared out of its wits.

Quite a bit of that going around, apparently.

Silence blanketed the clearing once more. Ginny rose up shakily onto her hands and knees, sobbing for breath, and felt around for her wand. Snow had begun falling harder now, and stuck to her lashes. She wiped her eyes ferociously, then grabbed her wand, jamming it in her pocket, and clambered upright.

Her hand throbbed where it had been kicked. Ginny cradled it to her chest, and took off running towards the camp. She'd had enough walk to last her a long while.

There were cramps all through her side, and her chest burned with every breath, by the time she made it. Charlie and Jase were the only ones there, having returned minutes earlier. "Hey, little sis," said Jase pleasantly. "We mailed your stuff off, no problem -- their owls are still cool, not like our drama queens. What's up? You look kinda' pale."

Charlie didn't look nearly so pleased. "Where've you been off at?" he asked, frown deepening. "You said you'd stay put if the weather got bad. Ginny, you _promised_ ," his cheeks were bright pink from cold. There were darker red patches in his hair, damp where snowflakes had melted.

 _It's your fault_ , she wanted to shout. Instead, she pushed past him. "Spare me a lecture from you on personal safety," she snarled, and stormed off to her tent.

She ripped off her boots and wet clothes, and chucked them in a ball into the corner. Sod it, sod everything! Sod Charlie, and this whole summer -- wasted in Romania when she could be helping fight, helping do something, doing anything besides what she was, which was going completely _mental_ and starting to think things she couldn't understand, like what her brother's mouth would be like, and why was this happening?

Angry tears squeezed out through her lashes, hot but cooling quickly on her face. She just wanted...just...nothing. Something. But she wasn't supposed to. Why wasn't she ever what was supposed to be?

"Fuck you," whispered Ginny to no one in particular -- the universe at large, perhaps. She curled up on the bedroll, shivering in just her underwear, and put her hands over her eyes. Her bruised hand and back hurt, but her head hurt more, and felt just as bruised.

Reality faded in and out. Ginny was aware of being cold, but not caring enough to do anything about it, and then someone coming inside, shaking her. "Wake up now, love, come on," they coaxed. "Don't make me get the water bucket."

Ginny sat up with a jolt. Jaswinder was crouched beside her. "What's going on?" she asked, scrubbing at her eyes. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Party, and a few hours, give or take," Jas looked her up and down. "The better question would be, where did you find those darling knickers? They're fabulous -- with the little dragons on them and that adorable lace..."

Ginny felt the blood rush to her skin, all over, and blushed even more, knowing Jas could see _all_ of it. "My mum makes them, I'll have her send you a pair," she thought for a second. "What's this about a party?"

Apparently, it had been declared they would have a small party at the local tavern to boost camp morale. If she hadn't left so quickly, Jase probably would have told her the same as he had the others, but she had instead used the time far more wisely; by being in a good, long, naked strop.

"I am not in a strop -- or naked," muttered Ginny, trying not to smile or freeze to death, whichever came first. "I was...tired."

"Of course," said Jaswinder dryly, then took a spare set of robes from her bag, and draped them over Ginny's shoulders. "Come on, Sleeping Shirty. Let's get you good and gorgeous for those Romanian boys -- 'cause you look like shit."

Ginny snorted, feeling for the arm openings. "Thank you. I'll be sure to tell Jase what a bang-up job you've done on my morale already."

"If you don't hurry and fasten this robe on properly, you're going to raise a lot more than morale."

It was a short, extremely cold dash to Jaswinder's tent. Ginny had barely time to glimpse Panos and Jase by the fire pit, watching them in equal parts confusion and alarm, before she was bodily dragged through the door flap.

Inside was a bizarre hybrid of library and dormitory. There were...things, _everywhere_ ; clothes, papers, shoes, Quidditch gear, jars of ingredients and also what appeared to marmalade. But there were also bookshelves lining every available inch of wall, neatly stacked and sorted alphabetically. Ginny couldn't help but goggle at it all.

"Closet Ravenclaw," said Jaswinder. "Now come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly."

Total nutters. Every one of them.

Ginny gave her a blank stare, but obediently followed. There were three rooms in all, four if you counted the lavatory, which was two more than Ginny had (if you counted her lavatory). Jaswinder's bedroom was every bit as messy as her study had been, though with far fewer potion jars and more Quidditch paraphernalia.

Jas immediately began ransacking her closet. "No, no, no, yes, no, maybe, no, no, oh FAB!" Jas gathered up her choices, and came towards Ginny, an unholy light in her eyes. "Trust me! It'll be brill."

Which was when she realized her doom.

In a flash, Ginny found herself first stripped then dressed like a doll, sputtering protests all the while. When it was done, Jaswinder conjured a full-length mirror, and shoved her in front of it (as if an oncoming train). Her brain stuttered to a momentary halt.

Short-sleeved peasant blouse, white with cherries printed on it, and some type of stretchy band stuck on right underneath her breasts, pulling it snug over them. Denim skirt with a centimeter or so brown leather fringe, dangling barely halfway down her thigh. Uncomfortable, frilly push-up bra that formed her still ( _oh Lord, please let it be_ ) developing chest into a small, perfect knickknack shelf.

Wait. Push-up bra? When had _that_ happened?

"These were my mum's, back when she was a hippie," Jas volunteered cheerily. "Except the bra, of course -- she burnt all hers. I just transfigured yours."

"Um," said Ginny, once she recovered the ability to speak. "It's very...aren't I going to sort of freeze to death in this?"

Jas waved airily. "Oh, we'll be inside most of the night. Just move around a lot, keep your circulation up, and you'll be fine."

There was some sound advice.

"Now, cosmetics aren't my strongest subject. You'll have to ask Marika about those. But anyroad, if you'll excuse me, I have to see what dazzling clobber is left to yours truly..." Jaswinder began pillaging her closet once more, as if there could possibly be anything left to rifle through. Ginny happily took the opportunity to toss out a fast 'thank you', and run for her life.

Emerging, she saw only Panos was still there, fiddling with the 'sounding system' and looking bored. He glanced at her once briefly, then snapped his head up to stare; blindly, he twisted the wrong knob, and leapt backwards when polka music blared out at a deafening volume. Ginny tugged at her skirt self-consciously, and hopped barefoot back through the snow, to fetch her boots.

Marika was waiting for her inside the tent. Speak of the devil. Ginny was apparently quite popular today; she felt a new empathy for Harry. "Er...hi?"

"Hi," she said, and gave a soft, easy smile. Marika's heavy-lidded eyes always made her seem sleepy, and her sleek, straw-blonde bob gleamed immaculately, gelled into submission. Ginny touched her own hair, gone frizzy after being snowed on and looking like angry rats had styled it. She sighed to herself.

They lapsed into momentary silence after that, simply looking at one another, Ginny with increasing paranoia and Marika still smiling. Finally, Ginny couldn't stand it any longer, and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Where's Reiko?"

"In our tent, making herself crazy finding what to wear -- I do not share that problem," Marika's full lips pressed into a slight self-deprecating smirk; she wore her typical (comfortingly normal) hooded sweatshirt and camouflage breeches, whimsical yellow socks peeking out from the top of her boots. Ginny had never longed for another person's trousers so deeply. "It seems you don't either, being ready so quickly," Marika hesitated, eyes darting to Ginny's hair. Comprehension dawned.

Ginny wondered if every single woman on the planet had _actually_ held a meeting to decide that she needed a makeover, or if it was just some desperate instinctual urge.

"All right," said Ginny, and flopped down in front of Marika. "Do your worst."

It wasn't an entirely traumatic experience. Hopes had been good for Marika, anyhow, being so achingly cool herself it made lesser beings (such as Ginny) want to build her a temple and become acolytes, or something like that. Her hands felt marvelous, massaging the Sleekeasy's into Ginny's hair and raking gently along her scalp. The steady rhythm of her dark, sorghum alto was hypnotic.

Marika spoke to her all while working; of her mother in Germany, her Romanian father, being expelled from Durmstrang when she was fifteen and transferring to Beauxbatons. Places she had traveled, people she'd met, including her first real love, a belly dancer called Aziza.

Ginny listened with her eyes closed, falling into the images Marika wove, the spell of her voice. The world ceased to exist outside of that, and the skilled fingers, combing through her hair.

Marika sighed, twisting a curl around her thumb. "You have such beautiful hair -- it would be a sin to cut it. Just like your brother's, magnificent red..."

It was Charlie's hair, silky sliding around her fingers, Charlie with kohl-rimmed eyes and a ruby in his navel, dancing under a falling red Egyptian sun. Broad, bare shoulders, a copper arrow on his belly, carrying them in circles, circles, around the yard.

"There."

Ginny slipped into waking as easily as she had dreaming. Everything felt smoky, and smelled like spices. She opened her eyes, and saw a shimmering, iridescent dragonfly, in the palm in Marika's hand. It took her a moment to realize it wasn't another vision -- it was a barrette. "It's lovely," breathed Ginny.

"For luck," Marika smiled again, mysterious now, and fastened it into Ginny's hair.

She painted red gloss that tasted like cherry onto Ginny's lips, glittering copper wings on her eyelids, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then wiped the purple imprint of her mouth from the pale skin. The Sleekeasy's smelled like bubble bath, and girl.

"Everyone decent in here?" called a voice from outside.

"Hardly ever," said Marika. "But we are dressed."

Jase poked his head inside, jade eyes drawn to Marika first, then lingering on Ginny. He grinned. "Don't you clean up nice," he said, then cocked his head. "Isn't it a little cold for that outfit, though?"

"Not according to the mad," quipped Ginny.

"And who could argue with an endorsement like that. You guys ready to go?"

Marika fastened a string of apple red beads around Ginny's neck, then brushed a stray lash from her cheek. "Yes, now I would say we are."

Everyone else was already standing around outside, huddled in jackets and with each other to ward off the crisp night air. Ginny sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, feeling as though she were dressed in a tissue. Which was disturbingly not far from the truth.

Reiko gave her a wolf whistle, and Nicu selflessly offered to share whatever body heat she might desire him to produce. "You're going to sodding freeze in that," was all her brother said, hands shoved in his pockets. His expression looked like it didn't know quite what it was, either.

All of them gathered in a circle, to touch the Portkey Jase had made out of an enormous pinecone. Ginny was crowded in next to Charlie, and tried to ignore his agitated breathing, her heartbeat matching it. The wind whipped through her hair, and she knew he could smell it, fresh like new bathwater.

They touched fingertips to the cone; Charlie placed his hand on her back just as the Portkey tugged behind their navels, and Ginny felt that pull inside her as well.

It was significantly warmer where they materialized, on a road just outside the village. There was only about an inch of snow on the ground there. Ginny wondered if the dragons would start moving down the mountain now, into the lower altitudes where it wasn't so cold. That would be very bad for the townspeople.

The party hurried along, talking animatedly around the Weasley siblings, who were remaining silent. Ginny was too busy trying to keep from getting frostbite to feel like chatting -- she didn't know what Charlie's problem was. Probably still out of sorts about earlier. Guilt gnawed at her, but she pushed it back for the moment.

In minutes, they'd reached the tavern. Ginny ducked inside as quickly as possible, and was immediately disappointed to find it wasn't the haven of warmth she'd been pining for. Of course, no one else inside was dressed for the actual month of August either, which might have explained it.

The dragon handlers were both the largest and youngest group there, a desperate letdown for more than one of them. "Sorry, Gin, seems that brassiere's going to be wasted on us," said Jaswinder, and gave her a sympathetic thump on the back (directly over a bruise, ouch). "Unless you've a hidden fetish for old, married farmers."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Pulling some bloke wasn't exactly what you'd call an impassioned goal of hers. Boys were the same wherever you went: trouble.

"Look, minstrels," said Panos, delighted. Sure enough, there was an elderly gentleman, sitting on a stool by the dance floor and tuning his violin. Two more men stood near him; one had a guitar, the other a tambourine. That looked promising, at least.

One good point to having so few other patrons was it made getting a table a breeze, unlike the Three Broomsticks. Ginny sat (very gingerly on her sore tailbone) between Nicu and Reiko, who did everything one-handed because her other was firmly entangled with Marika's. They ordered a bottle of firewhiskey, plus one butterbeer.

"I can get this at Hogsmeade," grumbled Ginny, peeling the label off in one long, practiced strip. "What good's being on hols without responsible adult supervision if I'm still drinking _butterbeer_?"

Jase downed his shot with a wince, smoke leaking out his mouth. "Hey, what am I, running with scissors and giving out candy from a van? I'm responsible -- ish."

"Right," snorted Charlie, ignoring Jase. "And then I'll go have a snog with a Hungarian Horntail. Mum would castrate me if she knew I'd even brought you here, let alone let you have anything. Don't you like having me as a brother? I know there's a lot of us to consider, but I've got to be in the top five at least."

"Come on, Weasley," said Reiko, flushed red from the firewhiskey. "Live a little! She can't take your bollocks if you don't grow some first, right?"

All the others oo'ed and ah'ed their appreciation; thinking up new, preferably emasculating ways to slag on one another was part-high art, part-official sport of the camp. Charlie just shook his head. "Bollocks aren't the problem. _Death wishes_ are the problem, and my lack of one."

Nicu leaned over to whisper in Ginny's ear. "Don't worry, I will give you a sip from my glass next time. Yes?" he patted her knee in reassurance, palm hot on her bare skin. A feeling like lightning shot up her legs, and she jumped, knocking into the table and sending her butterbeer airborne. Sweet, fizzy liquid splashed all over the table and down her front.

"Sorry!" she yelped, and leapt up so quickly her chair nearly tipped as well. "Oh, Jas, your mum's clothes! Sorry, I'm such an arse, I'll fetch a rag -- "

"Don't worry about it," Jaswinder took out her wand, and pointed it at the mess. " _Scourgify_!" instantly it vanished, from both the tabletop and Ginny. "All fixed," she smiled, to show there were no hard feelings.

The others were for the most part still wearing identical stunned looks, except Charlie who was giving Nicu a suspicious glare instead. Then he looked at Ginny, and softened. "Why don't you go wash your hands, Gin. I'll get you another one while you do, all right?" he suggested gently.

She nodded, blushing up to her hairline, and made a beeline for the loo. A bearded, scraggly man at the bar glanced at her as she went by; she paused for a brief second, caught by his stare. He twitched into a smile, which never quite reached his eyes.

There was something familiar about him...

Ginny burst into the ladies', and commandeered the sink, splashing her face with cold water, trying to regain her composure. Which helped a little, but yanking off the ridiculous bra Jas had conjured helped a lot more. She stuffed it into her bag, and pulled her blouse straight, studying her reflection. Didn't look too scandalous -- in fact, the shirt looked somehow more right, braless. Probably been designed with that in mind, knowing the period it was made during.

Mum would strangle her, if she knew her only daughter was gallivanting about with no 'support'. Not that Ginny had much in need of supporting.

Puberty, she decided, was a right pain in the arse.

The man at the bar had gone, by the time she came out. Ginny frowned absently, picking her way back to their table. The musicians had begun playing, which meant Jas and Nicu were up and dancing, and had dragged Reiko with them. Marika followed, amused. Jase and Panos had located a darts board, and Panos was teaching Jase the fine art of the swizz.

It was only her brother left at the table, watching Nicu and Marika teach the others a local step, with a small, almost melancholy smile. Ginny sat next to him. "Hi," she said.

He slid a glance at her, hesitating at her chest, then returned determinedly forward. A cool sensation tingled over her scalp, and suddenly she understood Mum's point of view on underclothes more deeply.

"Feel better?"

She nodded, and watched the others laughing and dancing. "I'm sorry, about before. You were right. I promised you."

"Should've trusted you more. You came back when it got rough," said Charlie, sloshing his drink in moody circles. "It's just...if anything happened to you here, when I'm supposed to be watching out for you...I'd lose my nut," he drained the glass quickly, swallowing hard; his voice came out husky. "I know you aren't a baby anymore, but there's -- there's things, you don't understand them yet. You don't know how...fast they happen. And I should protect you from them, I'm older and it's _my_ responsibility."

They weren't having the same conversation any longer. Danger thrummed in the places between, haunting and inexorable, like the seconds away from wreckage. Ginny felt her eyes drag up to his, dark in the tavern shadows, and herself speaking.

"Might be surprised what I know."

The air swirled, thickening somehow, became charged where it passed by them. There was no tavern, no music, no people outside them. Their shoulders were nearly touching, unfilled space crackling, and Charlie bit his lip, looking almost pained.

Wordlessly, he poured another firewhiskey, and pushed it to her. "Here," he said. "But just a nip."

Ginny smiled, and toasted him. "Cheers," she swallowed half the shot, burning all the way down like both their faces were. Charlie took the glass from her, fingertips grazing hers, and licked the cherry-flavored gloss from its edge, before tossing back the remains in one go.

"Good on you, Weasley," said a voice from just over his shoulder; they both turned to see Reiko, the others in tow, shiny with sweat and panting. Ginny breathed, and felt as though it were her first. "What Mum never catches wind of, right?" she winked, and pulled up her chair again, scooting it close to Marika's. "Look, the story's about ready to start."

"Story?" as the other dragon handlers took their seats, Ginny noticed that indeed, the minstrels really _had_ stopped playing, and the elderly one had put his violin away, perching on his tall stool.

"Yes," said Nicu, and stole a sip of her butterbeer; Jas swatted him playfully. "What? I did nothing. But yes, Ladislau is quite well-known here, for his tales."

The light in the tavern dimmed, and the guitarist resumed playing, softly, plucking out the tune of an ancient song. Ladislau the storyteller cleared his throat, and began speaking, in a clear, surprisingly strong tenor. Everyone in the room had stopped talking, and leaned forward. "Listen," said Charlie.

Her throat tightened. She felt strangely like trembling. "But I don't know Romanian," she hissed.

Something bumped her elbow from under the table. Ginny glanced down, saw it was his hand; she met his eye, and discreetly slipped her own below to find his, palm to palm. "Shh," he murmured, and slid his fingers between hers. "Lean in, I'll translate it."

She did as he said, as did he. " _In the time long ago, there was a brother with eyes like embers, hair golden-scarlet as the fire he called, and a frost-fair sister, dark-eyed, wreathed in silver curls that fell to her ankles like icy rivers,_ " spoke the old man, whispered through Charlie. " _Together, they held each half of their father's magic, and sat at the left and the right of the wise Decebalus, ruler of the mountain city Sarmizegetusa; offering their council, their loyalty, and their strength._

" _There was a terrible war being waged. A dark tide had swept across the earth, spreading like moonless night, that sought to swallow Decebalus and his people next. Their father had held them back ten years, and when he died, the brother and sister held them ten more, wielding their great and fearsome magic. But their enemies had found a powerful ally, the famed sorcerer Apolodor of Damascus, and calling upon the Earth itself to form a bridge, Apolodor brought wave after wave of soldiers across the Danube, to lay siege on Sarmizegetusa. Still the city would not fall, for it was fortified by walls of ice, and storms of fire rained down on any who dared approach._ "

Beneath the table, Charlie delicately traced runes over the back of her hand; Kaunaz2, Perth, and Daeg, Sigel drawn just over the pulse of her wrist. She exhaled softly, tremulously, and imagined the sacred symbols alive and glowing, burned onto her skin instead of only into its memory.

" _The enemy leader, Traianus, would not be stopped. He commanded his sorcerer to search harder, find a way, and Apolodor did as demanded. He sent his spirit creeping in through a mouse's hole, and ensorcelled a golden goblet with his most potent curse, bidding a traitorous servant to take it to one of power._ "

Like Peter Pettigrew, and Harry's mum and dad. Ginny burrowed her face in Charlie's shoulder, the worn cotton from his tee-shirt soft against her skin. It smelled like smoke from the firewhiskey, and soap. " _Decebalus had proclaimed there would a sumptuous feast that evening, in honor of the brother and sister. It was there the servant presented Apolodor's beautiful jeweled cup, filled with sweet water, to the brother-wizard, who accepted gratefully._

" _A single mouthful was all required for the dark spell to take hold, and the brother had only time to gasp once, clutching his throat as he fell away from the long table,_ " Ladislau grabbed his own throat for effect, and the guitarist strummed dramatically. " _The sister-witch abandoned her chair with a cry, and rushed to his aid, but it was too late. The brother with ember eyes, scarlet hair, had been forever transformed into a great, silent golden stag, antlers encrusted with jewels._ "

Her brother's low, constant voice, like Marika's, lulled her slowly deeper into her unconscious, and Ginny felt her lids growing seductively heavier and heavier. To keep alert, she let her gaze wander over all the other enraptured faces -- Reiko laying back in Marika's arms, glossy black hair spread over her lover's shoulder; Panos, ambiguous but maybe not so oblivious, stealing glimpses of Jase, Nicu, and Jas passing the bottle round and round, clouded in smoke.

Charlie and the storyteller flowed on. " _The stag leapt to its feet, and ran from the feast. All the courtiers watched helplessly, rooted by awe -- all, except the sister, who gathered her skirts to chase after it,_ " Charlie's head dipped lower, gradually, to rest his cheek against on her crown; somewhere, the tambourine jangled wildly. " _Through the fortress, the mountain city, and beyond, she chased the golden stag. Her long, silver locks had come unbound, and everywhere they trailed became frozen; the wind that passed her body turned to snow, the trees to pillars of ice,_ " his tousled mop of hair fell low enough to join with hers, bubble bath, girl-flesh, but now man and dragon scales too, and she knew they would blend perfectly into one Weasley red.

" _She ran for a day and a night, as the great mountain city was lost, as Decebalus let his blood drain into the snows. At last the sister caught glimpse of the stag, a single glimmer of golden hoof reaching from the ancient oak grove,_ " murmuring nearly into her hair, stubble-rough chin grazing her forehead

The tambourine stopped, leaving no sound but the guitar's quiet refrain, mournful now. Ginny held her breath.

" _The sister raced to the trees, and discovered the golden stag there, an arrow stuck in its heart, bronze blood spilt beneath its cold body. It had been slain by an archer who had followed their tracks in the frost,_ " she shuddered, and pressed closer into her brother's arm. Charlie squeezed her hand. " _The sister-witch cradled its corpse to her breast, weeping. Her falling tears turned to rivers of ice and silver, that covered her heart and the land in deepest winter._

" _When Traianus and his soldiers found her, she was as dead as the golden stag, her brother. Frozen together in an eternal embrace._ "

Silence hung heavy in the air, like humidity. Then the lights came up, and the audience began to applaud; Ladislau bowed once, and took up his violin again in a bright, rousing folk song. The guitarist and tambourine man quickly joined him. Ginny straightened in her chair, before anyone could see.

"Wow," said Reiko, squinting from the sudden brightness. "Gutting, but lovely."

The others murmured in agreement. Nicu spoke up. "My bunicuta3 would tell me that story before sleeping," he said. "She called the ice witch Zapada4, and would try to frighten me so I would not wander, by saying Zapada's spirit haunted the forests near Sarmizgetusa's ruins," he wavered his voice dramatically, and wriggled his eyebrows at Charlie and Ginny. "Freezing unwary travelers to death inside the grasp of her pale, icy arms."

Jase eyeballed him. "That's a great bedtime story, Nicu. I can see why you turned out so well-adjusted."

The table's mood had lightened considerably, but Ginny wasn't having so easy a time shaking off the story's tragedy. It had left a hard, queasy feeling in her stomach, and the Ogden's was making her sick, dizzy. "Love, you okay?" asked Jaswinder suddenly. "You look a touch peaky."

"Ugh," was her most eloquent reply. "I think maybe I should stick to butterbeer awhile longer."

Charlie quietly disengaged their hands, then stood up. "Come on, I'll take you back to camp," he nodded toward the door.

Her heart jumped madly, in thrilled horror, and the blood couldn't quite decide whether to rush into her face or drain from it entirely. Alone? _Now_? "It's fine, really," she backpedaled rapidly. "I'll just lie my head on the table a minute -- be good as new."

"Don't be daft, Pinky," said Charlie, and took her by the shoulder, steering her from her seat.

They left to a chorus of goodnights, Reiko blowing her a kiss and Nicu handing over the pinecone Portkey, telling her to feel better and drink plenty of water. "Be back in a tic," Charlie called over his shoulder.

Snow was falling light, but steady, which meant it would probably be a ruddy blizzard farther up the mountain, also known as directly where the camp was. They tromped along in awkward silence, boots making soft crushing sounds in the new snow.

"Quite a fairytale, that," Charlie was usually the one who broke these silences. She gave an indistinct 'mm' as answer, and walked faster. "I wonder how much of it is true -- if there really was a brother and sister like that, I mean," he had his hands in his pockets, like earlier.

She didn't want to say what she thought, that she'd hope to hell they hadn't existed because that could just as soon be them, any one of them. She had six brothers, two parents, and all of them were scattered nowhere close to another. It could happen to them so easily, and she wouldn't know until it was too late, like Zapada and the golden stag, separated when it counted the most.

You couldn't take that for granted. With...with You-Know-Who risen, everything mattered. Every second could be the one that turned it all on its head, and changed every second that had come before and would come after.

 _But hasn't that already happened?_ Ginny told her brain to shut up.

The Portkey took them, wind screaming and colors blurred, and deposited them back at the center of camp, where indeed, it was snowing desperately. At least another foot had built up, just while they'd been out. Ginny hugged herself for warmth, and tried to come up with something intelligent to say.

"Sorry to drag you away from the fun," she said finally. "But thanks for taking me."

Charlie gave her a funny look. "Of course, it's nothing -- you're loads more important than any stupid party," he hesitated, eyes raking over her face, then reached out to brush the snow from Marika's dragonfly barrette. "You look very pretty tonight. I didn't tell you that before, but I should have," his fingers hovered at her temple, centimeters from touching.

Sod it. Ginny threw herself forward, and her arms around her brother's neck. A half-second after, she felt him encircle her waist, pull her tight to him. "Oh, Gin," he breathed, ticklish over her neck. His chest and belly were warm where he held her against himself, firm -- made her more aware of the weight and yield of her breasts, pressed into him at the line of his ribcage. She balanced on tiptoes, felt the heat of her body separated from his by only cherry-print, thin green cotton tee-shirt.

Charlie's hand slipped underneath, onto the bare skin above her waistband. Her stomach thrilled.

"Ginny..." whispered, the vibration passing from him through her, and she made a small sound in the back of her throat; he squeezed her, breathing faster. "Ginny," he said again, and slowly withdrew, just far enough to look her in the eye. "You should go inside now. You're freezing."

That was possibly the biggest lie ever told. Her whole body was flushed, felt like the snow should melt before it touched her skin. Like she was this far from spontaneously catching fire. "Um, right," she said faintly, giddy and sick all at once. "Goodnight then, I guess."

Calluses gliding over her spine, rough and dry. " 'Night," he looked as if he might say something more, but pulled back the rest of the way from her instead, and grabbed the Portkey with both hands. He vanished in a rush and swirl of snowflakes.

No sound but the creaking trees, her blood and heart. The sound of everything becoming very, very complicated. Ginny careened on boneless legs to her tent, and undressed without realizing it, crawled trembling into bed.

The dragons roared back and forth at each other, far off, like it was any night.

o o o

  
_Teach me to inscribe  
these words on my heart  
cover me with the shadow of your hand_  
(Killswitch Engage - "Temple From The Within")   


 

o o o

2 Futhark (or Norse) runes; Kaunaz - fire, enlightenment, love and passion. Perth - mystery, hidden secrets coming to light. Daeg - transformation, breakthrough. Sigel - revelation, wholeness.

3 Bunicuta - Grandma

4 Zapada - Snow


	4. IV

**Warning** : Strong sexual content and incest involving a minor (15).

o o o

  
_It's a feeling that you cannot miss  
and it burns a hole through everyone that feels it_  
(The Used - "Blue And Yellow")   


o o o

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _How's your hols been? Mine's ~~indescribably cracked~~ not worth speaking of. One of the blokes from camp is Greek,  & says he hopes you're enjoying the sights, he wishes he were there with you (not just because of what a saucy vixen you are). Coincidentally, I also wish I were there (definitely not because of that vixen bit). Oh well, guess you'll have to oil the bulging muscles of those gorgeous, tanned fellows for the both of us ~~as I am too busy with freckly British ones who are terribly related to me~~._

 _Miss you horribly, Harry ~~& even Ron, I guess,~~ too. Am almost looking forward to September and school. Am obviously off my nut. Please send help._

 _Say hello to your folks & snog a bronzed god for me (though not all at once),  
Ginevra_

 _P.S. - you wouldn't by chance have read up on any golden stag myths, would you? Depressing stuff, but...well, something's niggling at me about one I heard lately. Probably nothing, but a healthy dose of paranoia never hurts, does it?_

o o o

That morning Ginny had woken up, and realized two things: 1) it was her birthday today, and 2) there weren't any dragon's screaming or growling or anything, which was odd because the Norwegians and Longhorns fought very noisily all the sodding time.

Ginny got dressed quickly. Striped shirt, sleeveless red fleece, and jeans she'd nicked from Harry the summer before, which were absolutely enormous. She belted them snugly, zipped her fleece, and felt thankful at least her hand-me-down trousers came from people within ten sizes of herself. Harry must have swum in them as well; he was hardly bigger than she was.

It was unreasonably early, the sky barely lightened to gray, and too quiet, since Panos's music receptor had gotten too wet and stopped working. There'd been another few inches overnight, and it was still mustering flakes. Never in the rest of her life had she considered the chance of blizzards on her birthday. Ginny shook her head with disgust, and went to put the kettle on. She _really_ needed a bloody cuppa.

A fire had already been started, however, kettle hung over it, and a redhead already sat nearby, staring dully into the flames.

"Good morning," she greeted.

He looked up, blinking at her. Dark circles ringed his eyes like great bruised hollows, a day's growth of auburn beard sharpening his features, and his hair stuck up at all sorts of unlikely angles. Altogether, he looked like very exhausted, lukewarm death. " 'Morning," he mumbled blearily, then yawned.

"Merlin's hairy bollocks, Charlie," said Ginny. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Charlie mustered a tired smile. "Close enough," the smile faded to void. "All the Longhorns have gone."

What? That was...that was stupid. This was Romania, they were _Romanian_ Longhorns; they couldn't just leave like that. She stared at him. "You're joking."

He shook his head, eyes down, scrubbing his hands through his hair (which only made it worse). "Wish I were, but it's the truth. The last of them went this morning, headed down for the coast where it's warm," he stared off at the trees, toward the former mating grounds. "There'll be no more breeding -- only Norwegians here now."

Compulsively, Charlie raked through his hair again, mussing it viciously now with his fingers. He looked ready to cry. "Oh, Charlie," said Ginny, heart aching sharply. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Snowflakes hissed as they struck the fire. " S' not your fault, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he let out a deep, shaky breath, and patted the spot next to him, held out a hand to her. "C'mere, Pinky."

Ginny came around to sit, wrap her arms around him, and he laid his chin on her shoulder, leaning into her. She smoothed her brother's hair with one hand, like Mum would have. "They'll be all right. Dragons are tough, yeah? Maybe they'll like the sea better, anyway."

"Maybe," his tone said otherwise; he shifted, pulling her closer, mouth soft below her jaw. "Happy birthday, by the way," said Charlie to her collarbone, but she figured he meant it for the rest of her as well. "I'll fetch your present once I wake up a bit more."

Her ears heated up. "Charlie! You already gave me these boots, I don't need anything else," she said, exasperated.

"You're my ickle baby sister, and I'll bury you to the neck in presents, if I want."

There was obviously no use arguing about it, but a lifetime's habits are hard to break. A shrill whistle began, soft at first, but grew louder and louder. It took her a confused moment to realize it was the kettle, boiling. He broke away to make their tea, but not before giving her a birthday hair-ruffle. "So what is it -- twelve, thirteen this year, right?"

"Fifteen, you git," she snarled affectionately, and kicked him in the shin. If he wanted to change the subject, then she was more than happy to play along.

"Ow! Honestly, you kids these days. So violent."

The camp was awake and moving, by the time Ginny had finished her tea. Everyone except Nicu (who'd gone off at some ungodly hour that morning, and hadn't returned yet) wished her a happy birthday, but the general mood was gloomy. "They're moving farther and farther away from the established breeding grounds, into a lot more populated areas," said Jase wearily; even his hair looked tired, gone flat, ashy blond. "It won't be long before we get called down to deal with it."

How exactly you 'dealt' with migrating endangered dragons, Ginny didn't have the foggiest. "Looks like you might get some sun yet for summer hols," said Jaswinder, forcing cheer into her voice. "I hear the Black Sea has some well cracking beaches."

No one looked terribly convinced.

After breakfast (porridge and -- surprise -- eggs), Charlie disappeared briefly inside his tent, coming out with a small, clumsily wrapped box. It was fastened by a satin hair ribbon, tied like shoelaces into a lopsided, desperately mannish bow. It was perfect, and she almost hated to open it. "You're a good fellow," she kissed him on the cheek, grinning when his face went red.

"Go on, then."

She put the ribbon in her pocket, and carefully removed the wrapping paper (purple with Quaffles, Snitches, and brooms all over). Inside was a sturdy leaf-shaped steel pendant, set with a deep, vivid green dragon scale. "Bloody hell..." there was a thick, black leather cord coiled beneath; she threaded it through, and held it up for the other dragon handlers to see. The scale flashed iridescent soap-bubble rainbow-blue even in the anemic sunlight, and they oo'ed. "Charlie, I -- this is gorgeous. I don't know what to say."

"Okay, I'll give you a hint," he took the necklace from her, and reached under her hair, to fasten it around her neck. "Rhymes with 'thank you Charlie'."

"Thank you, Charlie," she chorused obligingly.

"Brilliant, you've got it. Soon you'll be coming up with sentences all of your own," Charlie brushed a stray hair from her cheek, becoming serious. "I can't believe you're fifteen already. Seems like you were just in plaits and nappies. When did you grow up so fast, Ginny?"

 _During her first year, somewhere inside Tom Riddle's diary_. She didn't say it out loud.

"Rejoice!" someone shouted from the trees; soon enough, a familiar dark-haired shape came bounding into view. "Your brave traveler, Nicu, has found something wonderful!" he flourished his arms heroically.

Ginny and Marika exchanged an amused glance; Charlie rolled his eyes. "Your missing sanity?"

Reiko had already fixed a fresh cuppa. "Brain? Moral center?" she offered, handing him the steaming mug.

Nicu scoffed, giving them all a contemptuous look. "Please, those are all long gone," he drained half his tea in one pull. "No -- I've found Longhorns!"

All joking died. Jase sat up straight, focusing instantly. "Where? How many of them?"

"Three, perhaps four," Nicu drank the rest of the mug, and crouched down next to the fire, warming his hands. "Up in the ruins, hidden from those Norwegian bastards," he looked over his shoulder at Jase, dark eyes glittering. "Warrick, they're digging dens. I think they have eggs."

It was a moment before anyone reacted, the news sinking in. Then Jaswinder threw her head back, and whooped for joy, which set off everyone else -- leaping and yelling and grabbing each other excitedly. In the chaos, only Ginny noticed Charlie slip away.

He came back fastening up his heavy blue anorak, pulling his gloves on. "Well? Who's coming with me?"

Pulling away from Marika, Reiko gave everyone a shrewd look. "The better question would be: who's going to stay here?"

There was a lot of arguing in a very short period. Nobody wanted to be left at camp, including Ginny who had the smallest amount of interest in dragons conceivable (and that little bit was mainly regarding the chances of getting eaten by one). But Reiko was right, it was too dangerous for all of them to go except Ginny, who couldn't do magic outside Hogwarts; these were agitated, possible nesting mothers they were after, and the sky was already darkening with an oncoming storm.

In the end, it was Panos and Marika who were chosen; Panos because he was their best at communication spells (in case they had to summon help), Marika because she spoke Romanian the most fluently of any of them besides Nicu, who had to go.

Before they left, Nicu came over to Ginny, and took both her hands in his. "You thought I had forgotten, didn't you? But I have not!" he said, and kissed her full on the mouth; just long enough for the tip of his tongue to dart along her bottom lip. "Happy birthday, my red printesa5," he winked, grinning. "Too bad it's not a few birthdays later, or I would give you more than a little kiss."

'Little' would not be how she described it. She nodded dumbly, and licked her lips, tasting Darjeeling and milk.

A blind turnip could have felt Charlie's scowl. Jase cleared his throat. "If you're done molesting Weasley's underage sister, Nicu?" he said dryly, then added to Marika and Panos (who were capable of remembering, unlike Ginny at that moment). "Shouldn't take longer than a few hours. Six, tops, there and back. If we aren't back by dark, send up some sparks -- no answer means we're in trouble. If any really bad shit goes down, we'll send them up instead. All right?"

It was said casually, which somehow made it worse; something awful could happen, it was suddenly clearer than ever. It could happen very, very easily. Panos and Marika nodded like it was just another day, and Ginny waved like her stomach wasn't twisting into knots. All three watched until they couldn't see them anymore, and their chatter and laughing had faded.

Ginny was really beginning to hate quiet spaces. "Would anyone like a game of Exploding Snap?" Panos asked out of nowhere. There was a tiny catch in his voice; Ginny looked, and saw he was breathing unsteadily. Marika was pale, even for her milky white skin.

Maybe it hadn't been so easy for them, either.

"All right," agreed Ginny. It would help with the long hours awaiting.

It did help, but the hours were still long. The three of them played Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and wizard chess; they washed breakfast dishes, made beds; Panos got out all his strange tools, and took the music receptor apart, fiddling with its insides until it worked again. All that came in was static, though, so he shut it off.

Marika made a special birthday lunch that had no eggs or soup, but plenty of sour cream and apple blintz for dessert, and they made an effort at conversation while eating, though no one's heart was really in it.

Supper was sandwiches, and they ate in silence. Snow fell fast and heavy by then, icy wind screaming, and it was absolutely freezing, but none of them wanted to go inside. Just in case. Ginny held Marika's hand, and didn't complain when she squeezed so hard, the bones creaked; she was squeezing back.

Something had gone wrong. It was only a matter of waiting, to know how.

Reiko was the first they saw, crashing through the brush, and Marika burst into tears when she saw her. Jase was right on her heels, pulling Jas with him; her left leg was limp, and dragging along behind at an unnatural angle. "Marika, Panos, get over here now, I need you!" he bellowed, and they were off like a shot, running to meet up.

Ginny stood frozen, gagging on her heart and watching for Charlie to come out of the woods as well. Thirty seconds. One minute. At a minute and forty seconds, he still hadn't appeared, and Panos and Jase were there with Jaswinder, Marika and Reiko following, clutching each other.

Even from a distance, Ginny could see the bone poking out of Jas's thigh. "Where's Charlie?!" she cried, breathless. Her lungs had collapsed, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't...

Reiko shook her head, weeping uncontrollably. "I don't know, we all got separated," she sobbed. "I was running with Jas, and she fell, she slipped on the ice and she fell, and she got caught b-between these trees, and I heard the snap, oh Jesus, I heard her leg!"

"In the tent, all of you!" snapped Jase. "Go, go, go!"

All of them were too overwhelmed not to obey, and trailed behind he, Panos, and Jaswinder, into the first aid tent. They hurried and lifted her onto the medical table, obviously trying to be gentle, but Jas still hissed with agony. "Oh fuck!" she moaned. "Christ, fucking hurts..."

Jase looked ashen and sweaty under the lights, but his eyes were like steel. "Kostanopoulos, I need you outside, keeping an eye out for signs of Weasley or Silivasi," Panos nodded and bolted back through the door flap without hesitation; Jase turned to Marika. "Dodrescru, go to the cabinet and get me one of the analgesic potions and a Skele-Grow Adapt-O-Splint."

Ginny's throat was closing. "What happened?"

His mouth pressed into a grim line. "We followed Nicu's tracks out to the ruins, but the dragons weren't there. So we searched for them, all over even though it was getting colder and darker -- that's when the storm hit us..." he looked at her, stricken. "There was something out there."

Marika pressed what looked like a roll of bulky cloth bandages into his hands. "You put that on, I'll give her the potion," she didn't wait for an answer, before uncorking a small, glistening black vial with her teeth and spitting the stopper out. She held it to Jaswinder's mouth. "Drink this, liebling, it will help your pain."

Meanwhile, Jase had quickly wrapped her bare leg from knee to hip. "Sorry, Jas, this is gonna' hurt like hell," he pulled out his wand, and laid its tip against the loose bandaging. " _Applico Femur_!"

Instantly the bandages sprang to life, snake-like. Every inch of slack snapped out of them, and they coiled tight around her leg, popping the bone back into alignment with a terrible, wet crack; Jaswinder screamed through gritted teeth, eyes rolling to white. She'd passed out cold.

Memories flashed from the Department of Mysteries, nightmarish. No, she refused to go back there now. Ginny shook herself out of her stupor, and noticed Reiko staring wide-eyed, shivering convulsively. "Here, you're freezing," she ripped the coverlet off Jase's futon, and wrapped it around the dragon handler's frail shoulders. "Hey," Ginny forced her to look her in the eyes. "You're okay now, Jas is okay. You're safe, look, Marika's right here. Ev--" her voice caught. "Everything is fine now."

Reiko nodded, still shaking. Ginny felt a hand touch her back, and turned to see Marika. "Thank you," she said, pulling Reiko to her, into her arms. "Thank you for trying to help her."

Then, a shout from outside: "I see him!"

Ginny ran for the door as fast as she could, reaching it before Jase and exploding through; she kept running, to where Panos stood, and past.

She saw him, too.

Charlie breaking out of the tree line, fighting through the branches and hip-deep snow, holding Nicu on his back like his brothers, like Bill. Her heart thundered in her ears. "Charlie!" she screamed, lost in the wind's howling; she barreled toward him, but Panos with his long, gangly legs passed her by like a sprinter.

Charlie looked up at them, face contorted with strain and determination, and began charging to meet them. " _HELP HIM_!" he bellowed, throwing himself forward desperately. " _Help me get him warm_!"

Thinking quickly, Panos yanked out his wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he yelled against the storm, and Nicu's limp body rose up. " _Accio Nicu_!" the impact should have knocked him over, but he stood tall and ready, and the image burned in Ginny's mind, of him stronger and more courageous than a scrawny nineteen-year-old Greek boy had ever been.

The others had rushed out of Jase's tent, and Jase vaulted ahead to help Panos. Ginny saw Charlie stumble to one knee, and took off madly headlong against the blizzard, not caring what happened to her as long as she made it to him. "Charlie!" she shouted again, and hurled herself the last feet over the snow to reach him.

He was still lurching forward, struggling toward the camp. She locked her arms around his waist, and used every ounce of strength in her body to help drag him there, muscles tearing and shaking with effort.

"They're dead, the dragons, all of them," repeated Charlie, again and again. "God, he's so cold, I've got to warm him."

Ginny heaved him the last ways to the encampment, the magically shielded still-burning fire pit, and collapsed onto all fours. From the ground, she saw Jase breathing into Nicu's mouth, pressing his chest in short, sharp bursts punctuated by the horrifying crack of bones fracturing.

Nicu's skin was blue, and covered in frost.

Charlie seemed to come awake suddenly. He leapt at Jase. "Stop it!" he screamed, ripping him away. "Stop, he's DEAD!"

 _Happy birthday, printesa_

Ginny turned away to vomit into the snow, and started to cry.

Then it was like an ocean, the tide swelling inexorably until it swallowed the sand, herself. She cried so hard, she was sick again, and someone ( _Panos_ ) slid his arms under and around, lifting her up like a sleeping child, and carried her into the tent. Someone else ( _Marika_ ) put the bottle to her lips, a purple one with Sleeping Draught inside, and rubbed her throat like an animal's 'til she swallowed.

Everything contracted and darkened, narrowing into nothing before her eyes. She slept.

 _She called the witch Zapada, and tried to frighten me so I would not wander_

There was murmuring around her. Fingers stroked her hair, her face, and soft, taffeta lips pressed to her cheek in the darkness.

She lurched awake, gasping and sore. Awareness washed through her. This wasn't her tent. She wasn't alone. Nicu wasn't ever coming back, ever.

The only light was a candle, and even that was too bright. Ginny shielded her eyes against it, squinting. "How long has it been?" she rasped, voice rough from yelling and crying so much ( _he's so cold_ ).

Charlie sat in a chair opposite the bed -- his bed, she realized. This was Charlie's tent. "About a day, maybe a bit longer," he didn't ask how she felt. That was an obvious answer. "Hungry? There's a pot of Darjeeling, and I can warm some soup, if you like."

Her stomach rolled at the mention of Darjeeling; she shook her head emphatically, wondering if she'd be sick.

"Drink this at least," he pushed a small cup of apple juice into her hands, forcing her fingers around it. "You need to have something."

Obediently, she drank the juice down, which was cool and soothing on her throat. It did feel better to have something inside her, after all. It didn't feel like there was anything else there; her body was hollowed like an empty bowl.

Somebody had changed her out of her clothes, and into a long tee-shirt, probably Charlie's. It must have been Marika, with Reiko and Jas...out of it. A vision of Charlie undressing her floated free from her subconscious, and she flushed, angry with herself for even thinking that at a time like this. "What's happened? How's Jas?" asked Ginny.

Charlie looked off to the side. There were red, angry scrapes all along his arms, and a split in his bottom lip. One of his eyes was black. "She's all right, I guess, leg's healing nicely, so that's good. Everyone's at town, with...with Nicu. His family's coming for him tomorrow -- the service is set for this Wednesday," he paused to collect his thoughts, breathing deeply. "I'll take you home after. The camp's been closed down."

Surprise and a surprising sense of loss struck her. Wasn't this what she'd been wishing for every second since she got here? _No...not like this. **Never** like this_. "What?" she said. "But why?"

"We were only here this summer, to observe the Longhorns. They've all gone, so it's pointless for us to stay," he shook his head, chuckling humorlessly. "Even the bloody Norwegians are leaving now. Too cold for them as well, I expect."

"Oh," was all she could think to say. There was a tight feeling in her chest, pressure building up and leaking out her eyes, in welling, stinging tears; she tried to blink them away, but felt her face begin to crumble instead.

"Gin, no...don't cry..." the bed dipped under Charlie's weight, and she let him take the glass from her, lay her back, stretch out alongside to hold her.

Ginny clutched her brother, feeling how close she came to losing him, in the phantom ache of her arms. "Oh my God, I can't believe he's dead," she said, weeping very quietly. "Nicu was just here talking and breathing, and now he isn't, he won't ever be again," her voice caught on a sob. "I was so scared, when you didn't come out. I thought you were gone, too."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She raised up on her elbows to look at him, lying on his back. "You've got to be so much more careful, Charlie, you've really got to. I love you, all of us do, and we need you here," she whispered. "You can't die."

"I love you, too, and I promise to try my hardest, but that's all," he smiled sadly, tucking her hair back out of her face, behind her ears. "Anyone can die -- you can't know if today is the last one you've got, nobody can. I wish I could give you a better assurance, but it'd be lying," she was on her stomach, and he had his hands resting on her waist. They felt cool for once, through the loose, worn material of her makeshift nightshirt.

"You could lie this once," said Ginny. "I wouldn't hold it against you."

He choked out a laugh, eyes wet, and hugged her tightly, pulling her partway across him. "I won't leave you, I swear, not without a bloody good fight first."

Her head felt giddy, from the sugar in her apple juice and sadness and proximity, and on impulse, she kissed his neck, the exposed bit where it began to curve into his shoulder. His breath hitched softly, but he didn't shove her off, so she did it again, higher, the skin smooth and scraped tender where he'd shaved it. Charlie slid one open palm over her back, fingers spanning her shoulder blades, and tilted ever-so-slightly back to offer a better angle.

There was only the sound of their breathing.

Up, following the line of his jaw, to press her lips against below his ear, swell of his cheek, and the hollow beside his mouth, delicately overlapping its corner. "Ginny, no, don't do that," he mumbled, furrowing his brow. He didn't turn away.

So she didn't either, lifting her eyes to his. Their faces were separated by only a thread of candlelight, and her hair fell around both of them, a golden-red veil. "Why not?" she whispered. It smelled like apple.

His pulse was right under hers, quickening; his stomach pressed into hers as they breathed. "Because," he whispered back. "You're my sister, I can't."

"You don't have to," she slid the rest of the way on top of him, and sat up, straddling his belly. "I'll do it."

Before he could say anything, she grabbed the tee-shirt's hem and pulled it over her head. She wished it was silky, matching lingerie underneath, instead of just her plain white bra and pale pink knickers with little red hearts, but they were all right. She rather liked the pants.

"Oh fuck," blurted Charlie, staring up at her. "This is so wrong."

"So I won't fly a commemorative banner for the occasion," she replied hotly, then turned her face to her shoulder, eyes down. "It's okay, if you love someone."

An unmentioned fact that it had been their Mum who'd told her that, during the Talk, and who had almost certainly not been speaking in regards to any of her brothers.

He didn't say anything, and Ginny tried not to fidget, arms hovering around her middle self-consciously; she didn't know quite where to put them. It felt very...exposed (even though he'd probably seen her naked loads of times, when she was little).

It really was wrong -- she knew that. But so was dying, and as Charlie slipped a tentative hand onto her thigh, she also knew which she would lose more sleep about. This was what they had been leading to after all, wasn't it?

Ginny put her hand over his, and squeezed it. Charlie's fingers curled into her skin on their own.

"Okay," he said, wetting his lips. "Okay."

He moved both hands then, onto her hips to scoot her back from his stomach, lower, over the arch of his pelvis; she caught her breath, and the bottom of his shirt.

Tugging impatiently, and he lifted to allow it off, kept going 'til he sat straight against her, bare skin to bare skin, and wrapped one arm around her waist. They looked at each other a moment, then she darted in to catch his lips with hers. Her aim went totally buggered, tossing his shirt away.

It was like kissing Michael in basic mechanics, but Charlie knew a lot more about it, how to nip and suck at her mouth, open it beneath his, and flick his tongue ticklish along the ridges of her palette. Ginny tasted the firewhiskey he'd drank while she slept, his apple juice that he'd given her, and felt the hard pulse beside his zipper.

How absolutely unreal it was hit her, because even if she'd...felt a boy before (Seamus, just once outside the Quidditch pitch, may Ron never, ever find out), this was different, this was her BROTHER'S -- she tried to figure out what to call it, in her head. His, what, his penis? Willie? _Manhood_? Merlin, that was ridiculous.

Whatever it was, it was rigidly, undeniably _there_ , and she felt everything go hot and liquid between her legs, swell with that heavy feeling like before it rains.

Charlie slipped his free hand between them, and she felt something graze her knickers. His fingers traced the elastic, then hooked around it to touch her. "Oh!" as he drew thick, blunt fingertips along her slit, sliding easily, up to circle the small Gordian knot aching above it.

He licked the side of her neck, and even she felt the rush of wetness come from her, jerking into him with a little cry. His fingers pressed into her there, the others steadying on her back, and when he rolled her onto her side, it seemed effortless.

He cupped her breast, nudging one of his thighs between hers, and she was more than happy to open her legs in welcome.

It was easy learning how to move, how to rub into him; a lot easier than trying to knit, that was for bloody certain. She bizarrely wondered where it was that she'd last left Neville's hat-in-progress, but then Charlie eased a finger inside her, and she was too busy shuddering to remember.

His finger felt strange, because she never put anything inside when she did this to herself; he moved it in and out, slow at first but then gaining speed, more and more, curving to hit something that made her jerk and moan and twitch around his finger. His breath came quick, pressing his cock to her hip in the same rhythm as he thrust his middle finger, and kneading her breasts, all at once. It must have been pretty difficult to keep track of, but he seemed to manage.

Charlie, like any good Seeker, was very coordinated.

Something had begun tightening, centered in her clit and the space just behind. Ginny squirmed, the sensation almost unbearable, and Charlie kissed her and moved her pelvis in time with him, murmuring into her neck. "C'mon, Gin, c'mon..."

She was panting and shaking, gripping his arm and a fistful of his arse. Sweat trickled between her breasts, jiggling with the force of each collision of their bodies, each shove from his cock against her soft, curved belly. Finger sliding in-out, in-out, rubbing the heel of his palm back and forth over her clit.

He hooked his fingertip hard inside her and bit her jaw, and that was it, the tension snapped; Ginny came with a wail, leg pushing into his side and bucking up into his hand. Her eyes were watering when it was over, internal walls still spasming and fluid covering the insides of her thighs. Charlie slowed his movement to none, carefully withdrawing to stroke the back of her leg, trailing wetness.

His erection throbbed against her, to his heartbeat. He didn't say anything, so she touched his fly, unspoken laissez passer. He watched her eyes, unfastening his jeans, and sighed softly from relief as he at last freed his cock. It wasn't an enormous Bludger Bat of Love, like the stories in Fred and George's magazines. Bigger than Seamus, but he'd been thirteen so that probably wasn't a fair comparison.

There was another slightly awkward moment, because yes, hello, her brother's _penis_. It seemed like a nice penis, angled cheerfully upward and deep pink, as a contrast to his blue plaid boxers; it looked very swollen, and pre-come glimmered at the tip, like a smooth clear stone. He was strawberry-blond Down There, like she was.

A quite nice penis, she decided. Charlie kissed her brow, her cheek, finally her mouth, deeply, before sliding his hands around to cup her arse.

There was a lot better leverage, using both hands. Charlie pushed harder, lifting her to meet him; his cock glided easily back and forth along the soaked crotch of her knickers. She tried to move with him as gracefully as she could, which wasn't very, but it wasn't really about her looks, it was about the flush spreading across his chest, tendons straining taut. "Fuck, Ginny," he breathed, eyes squeezed shut. "You feel so good..."

He pumped insistently between her outspread thighs, mattress squeaking and headboard rattling beneath them. She didn't know how anyone could be covert about this, and dug her fingers into Charlie's shoulders, hanging on for dear life.

Faster and faster, rocking her under him, and kneading her pale skin red. His lip had split open again, his bruised eye livid purple from all the blood rushed to his head, and she kissed him and writhed her body into his -- gasping, he buried his face in her shoulder, and shoved his cock against her once more, spurting come up between them over both their stomachs.

It was the first she'd ever seen, different than she might have imagined. There was a lot more of it, and it didn't seem particularly thick or gooey; just warm, wet. Kind of salty smelling.

Charlie shifted to wrap both arms around her, crushing her against him though their bellies smeared sticky together. She realized he was crying silently, tears running onto her neck. Ginny held him as tight as she could, dragon scale pendant hot trapped between them. "S' okay," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his forehead. "It'll be okay."

Outside, it snowed harder than ever.

o o o

  
_Cover me with the ashes of remembrance  
I will learn from this pain_  
(Killswitch Engage - "Life To Lifeless")   


  


  
_Remember to breathe  
and everything will be okay_  
(Dashboard Confessional - "Remember To Breathe")   


 

o o o

5 Printesa - Princess


	5. V

**Warning** : Graphic sexual content and incest with a minor (15). And horrible Romanian. Oh my God, so bad. I hereby apologize to the citizens of Romania, for butchering their language. Please feel free to bombard me with curses. So sorry.

o o o

  
_In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees  
and the voices of those who stand looking_  
(Led Zeppelin - "Stairway To Heaven")   


  


  
_Breathing in this pain  
rejecting all I am  
I hear you cry again  
is this my final stand?_  
(Demon Hunter - "Summer Of Darkness")   


o o o

 _Dear Ron,_

 _I love you, & I'm sorry. No matter what else I've said, that's the truth. There are things going on here that you don't know about yet, but they're right up you mad trio's alley, which should tell you everything. If something happens, tell the others that I love them, too, & Mum & Dad that I didn't suffer, because you're only cold for a little while & then you just go to sleep. Make sure Harry doesn't brood too much ~~even if he is a moody bugger~~ , & do the world a favor and tell Hermione you ~~want to snog her senseless~~ fancy her already, for God's sakes._

 _Oh, & make sure Neville gets this hat, all right? I know it's ugly, but I've always been crap at knitting._

 _Love you & hope to see you soon,  
Ginevra_

o o o

For once, when Ginny woke up, it wasn't to any crisis or revelation -- she was sore and hungry, and that was all.

She still had only her bra and pants, but Charlie had apparently cleaned her up and covered her with a blanket, sometime after she fell asleep.

There was no sign of him in the tent, but she could feel the heat from his arm lingering over her waist, so he couldn't be far. She nicked his toothbrush to scrub the sour morning taste from her mouth, faded apple replaced by fresh mint, and slipped his discarded tee-shirt on, tucking it into a pair of his jeans that dragged the ground on her, but not by far.

One good thing about the snow (and there weren't many, so it was worth noticing), was that it made tracking people a lot simpler. Ginny stepped in his footprints, just a hair bigger than hers, and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. Bollocks, it was fucking _glacial_ that morning -- she wished she'd brought a coat.

Charlie stood at the forest edge, looking out into the trees as if they contained all the world's mysteries. He didn't seem to notice her, until she was right behind him. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," said Charlie, glance sliding off her, only to return suddenly. "Is that my shirt? And...and my trousers? Are you wearing any of my socks, too, maybe my underwear? I'm not sure, but I might have a hat somewhere you could steal as well."

"No thanks, that's all right. But I did use your toothbrush."

He stared at her. "You are absolutely horrifying. I thought girls were supposed to be sweet."

"I'm not a girl, git," she smiled cheekily, butting him with her shoulder. "Sisters don't count, didn't you know that?"

It got him to smile, just a little, just for a moment. He looked pale underneath his freckles and black eye. "I was with Nicu, when it happened," he said suddenly; Ginny's stomach clenched. "We made it as far as the clearing right before Sarmizegetusa, and then the snow started coming so thick it blocked the sun. There was...Reiko saw it, and she screamed at everybody to run, so we did, Nicu and I, we -- we went the same way."

Dread curdled her insides. She didn't want to know, but asked anyway. "What happened?"

"I spotted them first," Charlie's voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes viciously. "It's my fault. I saw four Longhorns, but they weren't moving, they wouldn't leave their eggs. I saw and didn't even think, I just took a run at them, shouting, so they'd _go_. Nicu shoved me out of the way, knocked me down the hill same as Jas," his face had gone terrifyingly blank, closed off. "I heard them as they died. I heard the dragons screaming, Nicu..."

He trailed off, searching for words that couldn't exist, because there was nothing to describe what he had to feel. Ginny didn't know whether to touch him or not. What kind of comfort could you give for something like that? "Charlie," she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.

He shrugged her off, turning his back to her. She tried to be understanding and not to feel hurt ( _she did still_ ). "I'm bringing you to the village today. Jas will take you back to London, when she goes."

Ginny glowered at him in mistrustful confusion. "Why can't I go when you do?"

Charlie was quiet a long moment. "Something killed them," he said, and looked at her again finally; his eyes were hard and flat as metal. "I'm going to find it, and make it answer for that."

The blood drained from her body, filled with black ice instead. She couldn't believe her ears. "You're having me on," she said flatly. When he didn't smile, she grabbed his arm. "Charlie, no! You can't go back there, what are you, mental?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to," said Charlie. "I can't leave it like this."

Fucking Christ, he was really serious. Sudden, sun-hot rage boiled up in her throat, burning over the fear, the panic squeezing her heart, and exploded like a fireball behind her eyes. " _YOU'RE GOING TO BLOODY DIE, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND_?!" she screamed, and punched him in the jaw as hard as she could.

It caught them both off-guard. Charlie stumbled and slipped backward right onto his arse, clutching his face instinctively. When he looked up at her, his eyes were livid and wet. "I crawled halfway up a mountain to get him, and carried his body four fucking miles through the snow!" he yelled. "Nicu died trying to save my dragons and my life, I _owe_ him justice."

"That's justice, then, killing yourself so Nicu died for nothing?" snapped Ginny, but genuine fear robbed most of its sting away.

Anger he would have gladly reflected back, but her vulnerability undid him; Charlie sighed, and leaned against his knees. "What do you think is causing this--" he gestured to the snow, the frozen trees, the darkened sky. "--all of this madness? And it's only getting worse, Gin," he held her gaze, pleading and resolute all at once. "You're a smart girl, I know you realize the same as I do. This won't end until someone makes it."

"So why don't you get the others to help you or a bunch of Aurors or something? We could owl Dumbledore right now, I'm sure the Order would--" Charlie shook his head, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

"There was five of us before," he said softly. "Look how that turned out. I won't endanger anyone else."

The frigid morning air was nothing compared to the cold gripping her from the inside.

Any more arguing with him would be useless. He'd plainly set his mind, and what Charlie decided to do, he did. Bloody-minded was not even the term for it.

Only one thing for her to do, then. "You're right, you have to go," she straightened her shoulders. "But I'm coming with you."

"No! No sodding way," Charlie jumped to his feet in outrage. "Didn't you hear what I just said? There is not a chance in hell that I'm risking you like that."

Ginny cocked one hand on her hip. "Well, it's a good thing that _I_ will be risking _myself_ then, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't," he said stonily. "Because you aren't going."

"You can't stop me," said Ginny. "And if you try leaving without me, I'll follow you on my own. You know I will."

Charlie's face went bright red. "Not if I hand your Stunned arse over to Warrick!" he made a grab for her.

He was the most famous Weasley Seeker, but she'd been a good one in her own rights and had years experience dodging brothers -- she scrambled out of reach, drawing her wand from her (technically his) pocket as she spun around. "Just you try," she warned, holding him at wand-point. "Jase would have your arse if he knew you were going without him, all of them would."

It was immensely gratifying to finally be on the right end of some undeniable logic for once. Charlie glared daggers at her. "I should tell Mum about this."

"That's a conversation I'd love to see," Ginny snorted. "Especially the bit where you explain what precisely we were having a row over."

That was a thought to penetrate even the worst fury. He fumed silently. "Five minutes," he said at last, jabbing his finger at her. "Then I'm leaving, _with_ or with _out_ you. Got it?"

She nodded, no trace of anger left. "I love you, Charlie," said Ginny, and held her hand out to him. "I'll crawl naked to hell if that's what it takes, but I won't let you face whatever's out there alone."

A bittersweet shadow rippled over his face, as he momentarily laced his fingers through hers. "That's exactly why I was going to."

Of course he didn't hold her to the five minutes. There was breakfast to make first, and sandwiches for taking along. They filled their canteens with water (not that water would be hard to come by -- there was four feet of snow on the ground, more in some places), and Charlie helped find a thick coat to fit her, Reiko's fur-lined anorak with a sewn-in Warming Charm. Paired with snow boots and Jas's spare gloves, she added the scarf he'd given her what seemed years ago, but was weeks at most.

They didn't say much.

"We'll take my broom," was the longest and last sentence from Charlie, right before they left. "In case of a...quick exit," their eyes met, then slid away. They were almost certain to need the 'exit'. If they lived long enough to, that is.

It was like going back to the end of term; the DA and the Department of Mysteries, all those Death Eaters...she tried to put it out of her head, climbing onto the Cleansweep behind Charlie. She linked her arms around him, and held his waist tighter than she had to.

No matter the circumstance, it was always a real pleasure, flying with Charlie. He had a way with brooms like nobody she'd seen except Harry and maybe Krum, and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that if he hadn't loved Short-Snouts more than Snitches, he'd have gone professional out of Hogwarts.

Charlie maneuvered them deftly between trees, at speeds the fainter hearted would have been shrieking and covering their eyes at. Ginny felt a bit dizzy herself, and put her head down, hoping for the best.

They hadn't gone far before the climate changed dramatically. Ambient temperature nosedived so rapidly, it was as though the air had flash-frozen, and made breathing feel like needles scouring her lungs -- Ginny pulled the scarf over her nose and mouth, before it did any damage.

Great gusts of wind ripped through the pine boughs, howling in their ears and leaching the warmth from any exposed flesh. "Get down!" Charlie shouted to her, and the Cleansweep wavered under the icy squall as he rode headlong into its center, both of them ducked low and hanging on.

Whizzing through the storm, linear falling snow made into meteoric stars that seemed to be flying at them at a thousand kilometers a second, but that was an illusion, because it was really Charlie and Ginny doing all the colliding.

Deeper into the forest, the trees grew closer and closer to together, the branches denser, and though she didn't believe it was past noon yet, daylight had already begun to evanesce. Charlie had had to slow down to walking pace and drop to right above the snow, to avoid tree limbs; eventually he stopped altogether.

He climbed off, sinking deep into the snow. "Come on, we'll have to walk from here," he said, and pulled up his flying goggles. Ginny hopped down without help or complaint, as Charlie took out his wand. " _Locomotor Broom_!" the Cleansweep obediently floated up, and, when they began to move forward, trailed right along behind.

It was eerily quiet as they trudged forward, the snow absorbing what little sound there might have been; all of the forest animals had long since fled, and neither of them felt much like chatting. Charlie forged ahead relentlessly, grim with resolution. Ginny followed the best she could, struggling through the snow, but what came to his mid-thigh was hip-deep for her. It was like swimming, but more difficult.

The fourth time she fell back, Ginny tried a hopping sort of maneuver through the snow to try and catch up faster, and lost her balance. A hand shot out and caught her by the elbow, before she fell; she looked up into Charlie's face. "You all right?" he asked, eyes thawed by concern.

She nodded, out of breath, and he kept a gentle hold on her arm as they continued, any lingering hostility from earlier melted away. The trek was easier after that, though not by much.

Two arduous hours passed, slogging along and helping one another more and more blatantly as they went. Her legs were shaking with exhaustion by then. "Was it this rough last time?" she panted, fighting through a particularly deep drift.

Charlie pulled her across it, then grabbed her waist as her legs transformed to jelly. "No," his hand remained on her hip an instant past necessary, and her stomach fluttered; last night wasn't far from mind. "More snow since then."

How lucky and comforting. "So what exactly was this great plan you had, for once you got there?"

The specter of a smile curved his mouth, rueful. "Find it. Kill it. Don't die."

"Excellent plan, very flexible. Simplicity is underrated."

A bit of gallows humor never hurt -- no, that was what the gallows were there for. And snow banks, Ginny had learned. Snow banks were designed to cause suffering, it was their only function, really. Another forty minutes of stumbling through them only reinforced that opinion.

The twilight in the trees was growing darker yet, slow but steady. Ginny watched her breath turn to silvery-mist. "How much further?" she forced out through chattering teeth.

"I don't know. Not too, I'd guess," he hesitated, looking at her, then at their surroundings. "Come on, this way," Charlie tugged her arm. "I saw a dragon's den just ahead. We can have a rest there."

Ginny was too tired to object, even if she'd wanted to. "Aye, aye, captain."

Snow had almost sealed the den opening shut, and they had to tunnel through to get inside (forget Seekers; Charlie must have had eyes like a bloody hippogriff to spot the stupid thing). It was a good-sized, though fairly shallow cave, filled at the back with what appeared to be grass, tree branches, and all varieties of bits you might make a nest out of.

" _Lumos_ ," said Charlie, for a better look. He frowned. "This is all wrong. Everything's too tidy -- the nest's been dismantled only partially, not ripped all to bugger like it should be if the dragons had done it."

Ginny glanced around quickly, as if there might be an intruder lurking in a corner. "You think somebody's been staying here?"

"Maybe, but you'd have to be pretty desperate," he snorted. "Not to mention barmy. Having a dragon's den during mating season for your hideout...really not the cleverest idea."

Unless of course you knew all that was going to go pear-shaped, and the place would be abandoned. The thought seemed to pop out of thin air, and made her spine go shivery.

Ginny couldn't shake her eerie feeling as they gathered some of the grass and branches, and piled them together to build a fire. Charlie pointed his wand at the lopsided stack. " _Incendio_!" the grass and smaller twigs burst into flames instantly, and as they burned, caught the bigger ones. Charlie looked inordinately pleased. "Don't cast many spells to _light_ fires," he explained.

Between the fire and the snow at the opening, the den heated up nicely. They took off their anoraks to sit on at the fireside, and their boots to let their socks dry out (Charlie thought to cast an Impervious Charm on them, this time around). Ginny stripped out of Charlie's jeans as well, which were soaked, and had him Levitate them above the fire.

But even with the fire, it was quite chilly to be wearing just your knickers. Ginny was too exhausted to care, and curled up on her (or rather Reiko's) coat anyway, hugging her knees to keep from shivering. She felt rather than saw Charlie look at her, and tried to steady her breathing.

There was rustling, and something brushed her toes, then a solid, warm body materialized behind her. "Stretch out," he said softly, and she obliged, found his anorak pulled up below hers, so their feet wouldn't dangle off onto the dirt floor. Charlie put his leg over both hers, and his arm around her middle, settling her against him.

Ginny laid her hand over his on her belly, and let herself drift to the hypnotic flames, terpsichore reds and oranges that softened and bled into each other as her eyelids slipped.

Time eased around her like treacle. It seemed like only minutes, but was likely nearer to hours. She'd never know how much -- when she slipped back out of the doze, the fire hadn't died down anyway, but Charlie might have gotten up at some point to feed it.

He was curled around her then, sharing his corona of body heat, and erect against her thigh. It was not the worst moment of her week. Stomach coiling, she licked her lips, and tried to divine if he was asleep or not. Not terribly well, mind you, but she hadn't exactly been a devout acolyte of Divinations.

Attempting to be subtle, she ever-so-slightly wriggled her bottom against him. Her pulse jumped when Charlie squeezed, then began to rub her belly (a better answer than Trelawney had ever got, she'd bet).

"Woke up, did you?" he rumbled sleepily.

She pressed back harder, and he made a breathy 'ah' sound in the back of his throat. "Yeah, guess so."

His hand trailed heart-ward to fondle her breast, catching the nipple through tee-shirt and bra, then plunged across the valley between, the plain of her stomach, to cup her between the legs.

And it felt as nice as the night before, touching and being touched and just being close to Charlie, this person she loved with so many different pieces of her heart. But it was different, because this was nowhere that either of them had been, not quite, this was hovering over death's shoulder, and she wasn't about to die without knowing what the rest could be like.

Ginny squirmed onto her other side, and locked her arms round his neck, scooting up so they were face to face. "Charlie," she whispered, watching his blue, his band of her hazel. "Be my first, okay?"

He looked away, hesitating, and she willed him with every fiber in her body to listen. In the end, it was impossible to tell which tipped his decision, the silent screaming of her cells or his own. "I'll make it good for you, I promise," he said, and kissed her, just barely brushing his open lips to hers. She didn't fight when he pushed her onto her back. His weight was heavy on top of her, but not stifling.

It was only strange because it wasn't strange at all. Charlie shucked off his rugby shirt then parted her legs, moving down her body 'til his head was at her belly, and Ginny helped him ruck her shirt up, over her breasts. He raised his eyebrows at the shimmery lavender bra (changed before they left, utterly premeditated), and she grinned, tickling her toes over the back of his knees.

Her knickers were the ones Mum had sewn, white with a rainbow of dragons and embroidered cotton lace edges. It was Charlie that grinned then, and nuzzled her stomach, the slight soft tummy that separated her from him or their brothers. He dipped his tongue into her navel, and she giggled. When he kissed her through her dragon pants, she gasped.

"Charlie!" said Ginny, laughing and embarrassed and excited. It was sort of confusing.

He didn't say anything, but caught her knickers with a finger on each side, and tugged them down. She blushed all the way to her chest, raising her legs to let him pull them the rest of the way off; he stole the opportunity to hook them over his shoulders, and placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her slick center.

Merlin's white arse. That was indescribable. Ginny grabbed onto his head, as if that could give her some sense of control, but Charlie only ducked further into her crotch, stubble scraping her inner thighs. She felt something soft and wet navigate her opening, slipping inside easier than any finger ever had, and she moaned in absolute dead surprise.

His nose (broad and slightly crooked, from being broken so often playing Quidditch) bumped into her clitoris at the same time, a fact neither of them was unaware of. The dual sensations of that cartilage tip rhythmically stabbing her and his tongue probing as deep as he could manage had her writhing, skittering away from the intensity, but Charlie held her down and kept working.

Ginny sobbed with half-relief and half-betrayal when it stopped. It was a false alarm, though, because immediately that wicked, merciless tongue traveled North to begin lapping delicately at her clit, and a new player, the digit, entered both the foray and her in one fell swoop. She was crying out shrilly, gripping his hair and apparently trying to gain revenge via decapitation-by-thigh.

Charlie latched on with his lips, nursing it for an excruciatingly amazing second, then launched into a hummed rendition of some Weird Sisters' tune she could honestly give a knarl's arse about at that moment. His finger was doing its best to wear calluses inside her, sawing in and out, and when a second began to work in as well, it twinged slightly but that was hardly noticeable compared to the armies of other sensations battling it out.

She was cursing and sweating and squirming, as much as he'd allow anyhow. The dragons could have returned to claim their den, and she would not have noticed or cared. "Oh God, yes, Charlie, oh!" she gasped desperately, among a lot of other things that she couldn't keep track of.

Charlie had settled on an unrelenting pattern of sucking, swirling his tongue, and shagging her energetically with his fingers. Ginny arched up and screamed, coming harder than ever in her life, ever, probably several lives at least, spasming so wildly he had to pin her down with both forearms or risk losing a tooth.

Afterward, all she could do was lay absolutely still, panting, trying not to have some kind of heart attack. "Wow," was all she could think to say.

His fingers stayed inside, just shifting a little as he slithered back up to kiss her mouth, tasting like sex. "Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she slid her hands up over his bare back, circling around front to slip inside his jeans. He was rock hard, and burning hot; his boxers were soaked with pre-come. She tentatively traced her thumb around the head, rewarded by his convulsive jerk into her hand.

Turnabout was fair play. He struggled to focus on her, and removed his fingers. "D'you still want to?" always a gentleman. Mum would kill any of her sons that wasn't.

As answer, Ginny unzipped him. Their hands brushed as he reached for his cock, and Ginny yanked his trousers and underwear down using just her feet.

Funny, how even after the other night, it was still such a shock, the first touch from his penis. He slid it between her lips at first, slicking himself, then ran the head up and down her slit. It felt a lot thicker than his fingers. "Anytime you say, I'll stop. All right?" his voice was husky, and she felt herself twitch in anticipation; both of them shivered, and she nodded. "All right," he kissed her again, easy and deep, then started to guide himself into her.

It took awhile, and it hurt, but not anymore than anything ever did. When he was all the way in, she looked at him in dazed astonishment, feeling herself stretched wide around him, him throbbing. She wasn't a virgin any longer -- she was having sex. She was having sex right at that moment.

It wasn't difficult to see what the fuss was all about.

Charlie pressed his lips to her forehead. "Love you, Gin," he murmured again.

He was very gentle; pulling halfway out slowly, before easing back inside. The little pain she'd had faded further to the background with each smooth stroke, still there but negligible, and Charlie reached down between them to touch her. It felt soothing and wonderful and tortuously slow, an extremely clever torment.

She felt liquid leak out with his each withdrawal, dripping around him, and instinctively clenched to try and stop it. Charlie tensed, glancing down at her in surprise; she tried it again, and on impulse, lifted her pelvis to meet his thrust, speeding it up. "Please," she moaned, but he shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, holding his rhythm and her hips in place. "Not yet, you'll see."

It wasn't the sudden, breathtaking rush like before, the orgasmic guerilla barrage, but instead a steady excruciating climb, the slow burn never wavering, never ceasing, plowing her methodically centimeter by centimeter until she was straining against him, spread open and taut, crying and shaking and teetering unbearably on the edge. "Charlie, _please_ ," she begged; he wasn't cruel, so he rubbed her faster, finally let her move freely, shove onto him as hard and quick as she needed.

Her orgasm was as gradual and intense as the rise to that point, starting deep and rippling outward; shudders wracked her body underneath him, and she squeezed him inside her and outside, arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

After, she felt him still hard in her. He hadn't come yet. Vague creeping horror at that; what if she'd been awful? "Charlie?" she didn't specify, but he'd know what she was talking about.

"Ready?" asked Charlie, and she noticed him pushing in and out, just barely.

Ginny nodded, starting to move with him -- exaggerating his motion. "Faster this time," she panted, already feeling a renewed tingle.

"It's going to make you sore," but flushed dark, he still seemed glad to, shifting to drive into her with accelerating thrusts. "Tell me when," he said. "Say when it's enough."

A dangerous bit of direction, that. He continued to speed up as she continued to not say anything, and his widened eyes told that he'd realized his mistake, but by then it was too late.

The cave filled with loud, wet slapping sounds. Charlie was gasping, holding himself up with one arm and using the other to steady her hips as he pumped her furiously. "God," he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "So bloody good, so wet..."

"Let me see," she struggled to lift her head. "I want to see you go in."

Charlie straightened and raised up on his knees, grabbing her arse to pull her with him, onto him, and leaving just her shoulders on the floor (very strong). It gave her a better vantage to look down (well, up actually) and watch her brother pistoning into her; thick and red, sliding in and out. His cock glistened wet in the firelight.

Ginny was vaguely aware of making high-pitched noises she probably would have cringed at, but seemed to excite Charlie. His pelvis was fervently hammering into hers, angling to run along her clit, and the impact from each thrust shook her. She arched up counterpoint, trying to jar him back. Turnabout.

He was close, she thought, digging his fingers into her skin and pounding into her intently. Sweat ran down his chest, onto her stomach. The fine copper trail leading from his navel disappeared into her matching curls, over and over. He was biting his lip, though it must have hurt to, biceps flexing as he yanked her forward to take his cock deeper, deeper.

She came suddenly, unexpected, and cried out in almost as much surprise as pleasure, bucking and gushing wet around him, still impaling her through the clenching, the convulsing. Charlie's cock slipped easily back and forth, faster and faster, both of them slippery.

"Ginny, oh, OH!" Charlie threw his head back and rammed into her spasmodically, coming, thrusting to sticky suction noises as he pumped her to overflow. She didn't feel any 'powerful shooting cum explode into her lusty womb' (another literary gem courtesy of Fred and George's educational library); instead she felt his erection pulse within her, and her groin become even softer and more wet.

Gradually it stopped, as did he, easing her back onto the ground and following her down in a trembling slump. She caught him, and pulled him to her breast, felt him hug her in return. "Thank you," she said, kissing his damp hair. "That was dead brilliant."

He smiled wearily. "Should be thanking _you_ ," he murmured into her skin. "You were very brave. Not so much as a tear during the bad bit."

"Was I supposed to cry?" asked Ginny, baffled.

He chuckled quietly. "Only if you felt like it. A lot of girls do. The first girl I was with cried so much, I thought I'd done it wrong. Didn't try again for three years."

"Told you, I'm not a girl, I'm your sister," she teased gently, and he tweaked her nose, making her wriggle. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen," he said. "She was a sixth year. My mates thought it was pretty cool, more than I did."

A week late to share that, then. Ginny wondered if all of them started so young, but thought of Ron, who hadn't, and Percy and Fred and George, who she didn't think had. It was strange to think she had finally done something before they had.

Charlie's breathing had softened, steadied. If he wasn't asleep yet, he was close to. Ginny stroked his back, to help him drift; she didn't know when he'd last really slept. The rise and fall of his chest against her stomach was soothing, warm, and she could count his heartbeats. One for two of hers, two for four...

She jarred awake. Charlie had rolled to the side, the better not to squish her, and was snoring gently. Sleep made his face look younger, highlighted his resemblance to the twins. A surge of groggy, maternal affection tickled her like little fingers of body heat, and she smiled ironically, because that was just what they needed, one more dimension to the weird and inappropriate.

It had gotten darker, from what she could see, and the air was very cold. She extricated herself as gingerly as possible, though Charlie still frowned in his sleep, to yank free another few branches for their fire. Ginny had just stood up when the back of her neck began to crawl. A faint wail reverberated through the den; her ears prickled

There was something outside.

Ginny located and yanked on her knickers, Charlie's jeans that were almost dry and had been left folded politely by the fire. Her socks were still on, which suddenly struck her, she had lost her virginity wearing thick gray _argyles_ , but that was an embarrassment for later. She shoved her feet inside her boots, and gazed longingly at Reiko's anorak, pinned under Charlie.

It wasn't a conscious decision to leave him there, not...completely. But he looked so peaceful ( _and safe_ ), and besides, she would get just a quick peek, then she would come back to tell him. No use getting him up if it was only a squirrel or something, maybe a buck like the one that had almost trampled her.

( _all the animals had fled after that first snow_ )

( _wait...the animals..._ )

Ginny grabbed her wand, and ran for the cave entrance.

( _why hadn't it gone as well?_ )

At first she didn't see anything, blind from the fire. A moment later, her eyes adjusted (brown eyes were faster at that than blue; another reason for her to investigate instead of Charlie), and shadows emerged against the snow, fallen and falling still.

A man stood at the edge of the clearing, up a little ways from the cave, pointing his wand at -- Ginny's mouth went dry as salt. Jesus Christ, what was it? It held itself upright, humanoid, but every instinct of Ginny's buzzed, _not human_. Its limbs were too long, slender and smooth, gleaming argent-white in the gloom. Silver hair fell in a long mantle around it, flowing as if underwater in the howling wind that tasted like metal and burned with cold. Ginny couldn't see its face, and was almost nauseated with gladness of that.

It didn't move, but seemed to waver and flicker in place.

" _Imperio_!" he boomed above the storm; the creature cocked its head, and stepped towards him, moving with unnatural grace. " _Imperio_!" there was fear in his voice then. It continued to approach, closer and closer, reaching for him now with long, milky fingers.

"Nu6!" shrieked the man, stumbling away. "Nu, nu, tribuie sa dumneavoastra asculti de mine7!"

It bellowed with rage, seizing him up from the ground. The air crackled and dropped at least fifteen degrees; the wind transformed into a roaring, arctic tempest, whipping the creature's hair and the man's robes about madly. " _Nu sint omului 8_!" it snarled, a clear feminine soprano.

 _I heard the dragons screaming..._

 _Nicu, dark lashes frozen white_.

"No, DON'T!" screamed Ginny, and vaulted out from the dragon's den without thought.

She raced uphill, frantically leaping through waist deep snowdrifts. The cold was so intense, she had begun to shiver uncontrollably the instant she hit open air, bones aching with it and each breath agonized. Razor shards of ice flew in the wind, slicing her arms and face as she rushed into it.

The creature twisted around to face her, spine bending fluidly, impossibly. Ginny's heart lurched, flesh breaking into goosebumps from more than the frigid night.

It looked like a woman -- an unearthly, terrifyingly beautiful woman clad in gleaming silk, with purest white skin and luminous jet eyes that had no pupils, too large, oval to be human. Lacelike frost edged its -- Her -- sharp features, tracing delicate jaw and cheekbones.

She dropped the man's frozen carcass, to stare at Ginny. "S-Soare9?" the sonorous whisper passed over her skin, like a caress.

Ginny shuddered, arms scraped raw and red from fighting through the crystallized snow. Her legs burned from overexertion, each footstep slower than the last -- she stumbled, eyes watering and drooping closed. If she fell asleep, she would die.

Shadows flickered, and she forced herself to look up, to see Her coming over the snow, eerily, bizarrely sinuous, as if there were more joints in Her body than should have been; She loomed over Ginny, dark-eyed and whiter than the snow, and reached those endless, spindly fingers toward her. A soft whimper of pure, primal terror escaped Ginny's throat, and she recoiled from the touch, like frozen meat, on her cheek. Waiting for the ice to consume her, like the robed man...

But it didn't come. "Soare, " frozen, tremulous tenderness that made Ginny finally look Her full in the face, see the eyes filled with all-too-human pain and hope. "Asta e tu10?"

Heart jackrabbiting so hard, she could hardly hear herself blurt out, "What?"

The Woman (she couldn't think of Her as a creature anymore, not now) stroked her face butterfly softly, tears shining in the preternatural luminescence of Her silver-pale skin. "Aveam dor de tine11..."

Understanding colored her fear, tempered it. "I know you," said Ginny, staring up at Her, awestruck. "I know who you are."

A flash of red caught her eye, seconds before the cry. "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!" screamed Charlie, charging from the den with his wand out and trained on Her. The Woman's head snapped toward him, surprise quickly giving way to fury; she rose with a terrible howl, silver mane whipping in the sudden blizzard that tore around her, and seared Ginny's exposed flesh.

Freezing rain began to pelt down alongside the near blinding snowfall, slicking everything it touched in a perfect layer of glistening silver. Icy, tornado winds ripped through the forest, and the huge pines surrounding them swayed dangerously, frozen limbs cracking like thunderclaps as they broke off.

Charlie staggered under the onslaught, blood spattering as slashes opened on his face and bare chest (he hadn't even stopped to put his shirt on) -- but his wand never dropped. He stood fast and held it, chattering teeth bared and knuckles whitening with the effort; turned sideways into the storm, arm extended straight out from his shoulder. " _I'm fucking warning you_ ," he bellowed. " _ **GET BACK**_!"

"Charlie, don't!" cried Ginny frantically. "Go back inside!"

"Nu!" She stepped in front of Ginny, shoving her behind Her. "Nu veti se ranesti fratele meu12!" She spit, and rushed at him, trailing ice crystals. Charlie stood his ground, bracing himself for the fight he had to know he would lose. He would lose, and he'd die.

Just like Nicu, like the man, oh God, no, NO -- not to Charlie, she wouldn't let it...

With no actual idea of how to possibly do that, Ginny lurched to her feet and screamed the only word she could think of: " _Zapada_!"

She stopped, so fast Her crystals shimmered and crackled against each other, whirling around to meet Ginny's fervent pleading gaze. Ginny, who couldn't remember a word of Romanian (that's what it was, right? That's what it had to be) beyond "Zapada," just kept shaking her head. Desperately hoping it was as universal as people said, willing to give anything, anything at all, if She would just understand.

Though she couldn't feel them anymore, somehow Ginny's legs were moving, carrying her forward. Seconds passed sharper and clearer than reality, and she was aware of...everything. Glittering ice trees, snow crunching under her boots; she felt her lungs burn with each breath and the burn between her legs from each step closing the empty space, blood and semen still trickling down her thighs.

Random synapse fire, bringing up the memory of something Hermione had said: that you never really got to where you headed, you just halved the distance, and halved it again, over and over until the halves were so small you didn't realize anymore. But you could never get all the way _there_.

But then her half was finally little enough to reach over, and she thought nothing at all -- lunging across the snow to grab Zapada's hand -- except that Romania was really a bloody strange place.

Her skin stung where ice crystals melted then fused onto it, but she didn't notice; distantly, she felt herself crash land, heard Charlie shouting, and Zapada's soft cry. Overtaking all that, however, was the sensation of a channel opening through her arm to her skull, light sucked into her, and not quite sounds or images but sensations like both pouring piggybacked along.

 _he was skinny and freckled and small, smaller than she was, younger by five minutes, and his hair was bright red and shaggy to his shoulders, and they had loved each other since ever, they were two halves, one legacy of Father who left them and died, and they were all they'd ever had_

The white hand grasping hers breaking-tight was like ice, and there was a flash from Charlie casting something that didn't help. She wanted to yell for him to stop, stop it, before She killed him, but her throat had closed, tiny choked pants forcing just barely out, and her eyes were locked wide, sightless and watering from the intensity.

 _they were eight and starving and huddled for warmth in a barn, sixteen and living gods at either side of the king, they were twenty-three and holding the Romans back and they'd lain together for the first time that night, before the feast, and she saw his bright eyes go shocked and frightened, body wrenching, transforming, and she'd chased him forever, cradled him with their blood in her skirts and her heart dying inside him, and she would kill them all crush them make them **pay**_

Ginny reeled backwards, stomach churning, gasping for air as if surfacing from underwater after too long -- her head throbbed almost frantically, feeling ready to explode, as her brain scrambled to process what she had just experienced. "I saw you...I saw," she sobbed. "You loved him so much."

"Soare," Zapada was weeping openly, and sank to Her knees beside Ginny, reaching for her. "Scumpul m-meu13..." Her voice broke, raw with grief. "Am fost pierdut fara tu14."

The air had frozen into pearly, frigid mist. It was so cold, Ginny's body had begun to shut down, and her head felt so heavy, she could hardly hold it up.

 _Charlie_. His image burned clear and bright in her mind, twined with Zapada's brother, who looked so much like them ( _like her_ ). Ginny forced herself to keep awake. "It wasn't right," she whispered frailly, tears freezing in streams. "He was taken from you, and that was _wrong_."

Zapada shushed her and shook Her head, gently taking Ginny's face into Her thin white hands; and Ginny -- who had died once with Tom Riddle and his chamber, and now again with Zapada and her brother -- did not flinch away. "Dar ai se intors mie15!" She said with a quavering smile, then quieter again, "Ai se intors16..."

"Please," Ginny choked, shivering uncontrollably, and she couldn't have summoned the energy to struggle, even if she'd wanted to -- she was limp as Zapada pulled her nearer into a tight, freezing embrace, white silk rustling against Her whiter skin. Ginny felt her grasp on consciousness slip, oblivion hovering at the edges of her vision. "My brother...please...don't hurt him..."

Zapada's black eyes glimmered inches away, the only spark of warmth in the world. "Sunt atat de obosita17," She sighed, and sealed Her winter lips to Ginny's.

Everything turned to ice. All memory of heat or self bled away, replaced by endless silver-clear, smooth and polished as sheets of glass. Wintergreen swelled over her tongue, and she felt the ticklish creep of frost on her skin, her eyes rolling back; wind pounded in her ears to the sluggish pulse of her heart, and somewhere Charlie screamed over the sound. Spiky outlines of tree and the moon -- an image of the same scrawny, scruffy young stag she had seen, centuries ago and just weeks back -- emerged through Zapada, who lifted her face to the sky and faded into a shimmering breath of frozen stars.

A hush fell, as the winds and silver rain died, and the last remaining snowflakes drifted down -- then the heavy silence was swallowed by the thrum of voices, soft murmuring that whispered through the pines, a thousand words of ancient love and longing.

 _Dragul meu, eu iubesc tu 18_

Warm caresses passed through her body, lying spread in the melting snow. Cold, clammy fingers pressed into her through Charlie's tee-shirt, and a head of sopping, messy red hair came into view, and a rush of relief and love swelled in her heart so fierce, it crushed the breath from her lungs. "Ginny, oh God, Ginny," Charlie was crying messily, shaking, naked skin tinged blue.

There were so many things she wanted to say to him, about this indescribable thing she couldn't even comprehend yet they had just been part of and how very, very much she loved him and they weren't dead, somehow they really weren't dead. But the moment came, and all her words turned to dust, and Ginny just threw her arms around his neck instead, clutching him as hard as her frozen limbs would allow.

 _Eu iubesc tu_

 _Mereu 19_

They were alive.

o o o

  
_I have seen you in this white wave  
you are silent  
you are breathing  
in this white wave I am free_  
(Sarah McLachlan - "Silence {Delirium}")   


  


  
_I am with you always  
and I will never turn away  
from you  
breathe me in, I'm forever_  
(Killswitch Engage - "The Element Of One")   


 

o o o

6 Nu - No

7 Nu, nu, tribuie sa dumneavoastra asculti de mine! - No, no, you must obey me!

8 Nu sint omului! - I am no man's!

9 Soare - Sun

10 Asta e tu? - Is that you?

11 Aveam dor de tine - I have missed you

12 Nu veti se ranesti fratele meu! - You will not harm my brother!

13 Scumpul meu - My love

14 Am fost pierdut fara tu - I have been lost without you

15 Dar ai se intors mie! - But you came back to me!

16 Ai se intors - You came back

17 Sunt atat de obosita - I am so tired

18 Eu iubesc tu - I love you

19 Mereu - Forever


	6. VI

**Note** : The end, at last.

o o o

  
_Put out the fire_  
don't look past my shoulder  
the exodus is here  
(The Who - "Baba O'Riley")  


  


  
_A little voice inside my head said_  
don't look back  
you can never look back  
(Don Henley - "The Boys Of Summer")  


o o o

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope your summer's been all right. I know it can't have been more than that, but you should do what you can. To be happy, I mean. It's just...you never know, do you? So you have to grab all the chances you get, because sometimes you don't get as many as you'd deserve. It isn't fair how fast it stops._

_Anyway. Well...see you soon, I guess._

_Ginny_

o o o

They flew to the village without stop, not even to gather their things from the dragon den. The sky was clear as sunlight, summer hot, and trees rained warm water like tears as the forest thawed around them. Charlie gripped her hand the entire way, and didn't let go when they slid off his broom, ran through snowy streets to the inn where the others were staying. His bare feet slapped against the wet cobblestones; hers ached in sympathy.

When they burst inside, dripping cold, bruised and bloody, the remaining dragon handlers were sitting around the hearth as if they'd been waiting. Jas was the first to look up, and dropped her mug of chocolate with a tiny yelp, followed by a louder one of pain when the hot liquid seeped through her flannel pajamas. "Shit, ouch -- Weasley! Gin!" she leapt to her feet. "What on earth's happened to you?"

Then everyone was talking at once, voices rising over each other's and echoing off the high rafters, until Jase herded them all upstairs to their rooms, before the owners chucked them out. Towels and dry clothing were distributed, while the story (minus a few...details) came tumbling out, words pouring from Ginny like arteries gushing, with hardly a pause to breathe before it was finished. After, the others stared at both Weasleys in utter shock.

"I can't believe it was all real," said Panos hollowly.

"I can't believe you're so completely stupid!" cried Jaswinder, limping forward to jab a finger at Charlie. "You didn't come fetch us, you bastard!" she slugged him in the chest, then grabbed him in a bear hug, apparently trying to squeeze the life out of him; her voice was muffled by Jase's loaned sweatshirt. "Bloody Gryffindors -- if you'd got killed without me, I'd've murdered you."

Charlie hesitated before wrapping his arms around Jas, and caught Ginny's eye over the top of her rumpled purple head; Ginny swallowed, pulling her towel tighter around her shoulders.

There were only two rooms, three beds; Reiko and Marika sharing, the boys separate, and Jas on a bedroll in the girls' room, because her leg felt better that way. Two quick, scalding hot showers later, Panos gave Charlie and Ginny his, and slept with Jase that night, to no comment. They pretended not to notice Panos edged backward, Jase curling delicately against him, touching Panos's hip.

Once the other two had fallen asleep, Charlie pulled Ginny to his chest, and discreetly slipped his hand between her legs, murmuring charms to soothe the soreness he'd been right about.

The next morning, Jase rubbed them head to toe with salves for frostbite, and made them sit in the bathroom for an hour, breathing bluish-colored steam that smelled like cloves and gardenia, to heal their lungs. Charlie protested through the door that this was wholly unnecessary because he felt marvelous, he hadn't even got that close to the bloody Ice Wench, and Ginny just rolled her eyes and breathed deeper. In fifteen years with Mum, she'd learnt about tilting at windmills.

Everywhere was flooded, the sudden wave of August heat melting snow into rivers. Ginny sloshed through it to owl Harry's postcard (useless though it was), and a scribbled note for Ron saying she was fine, he was a pillock, and she loved him to pieces. Charlie was waiting in front of the inn when she returned, Cleansweep hovering over his lap.

He stood, climbing onto the broomstick, and held out his hand to her. "Come on," was all he said; Ginny silently climbed on behind him, and held on. Now wasn't the time, but she knew he'd explain, when he was ready to. It hardly mattered -- she'd follow him anywhere, anyway.

The flight up the mountain in sunshine and birdsong was just different enough to be like déjà vu. She felt she hadn't been there really, just somewhere a lot like it. Grass peeked through the snow, flashes of green passing under them, and she spotted the dragon den right off this time, entrance uncovered by the thaw.

She tried not to see the dark slash of robes lying not far from it. Charlie followed her eyes, grim. "Why don't you go fetch everything from inside, Gin," he said gently. "I'll...take care of the rest," she wanted to tell him he didn't have to, she was a big girl -- but the mere thought of that body reminded her of before, when it had been inhabited, and what had taken his life, Nicu's, what could have easily happened to Charlie and to her.

"All right," said Ginny, and walked into the cave.

It was quite a bit lighter now, and hot, muggy from the inch deep water pooled inside. Lovely. Their coats and Charlie's shirt had drifted back, floating caught in the mucky, jagged edges of the ruined dragon's nest. Ginny sighed in disgust, and gingerly sloshed forth, to try somehow pulling everything free without touching any of it.

She wasn't fantastically successful. Reiko's anorak in particular had decided to be stubborn, and stay firmly caught. "Yuck," she muttered, yanking harder.

Her third tug, the coat came loose along with a sizeable chunk of nest. The sudden lack of resistance sent Ginny stumbling backward, legs catching on branches while the rest of her kept moving. She let out a startled cry and flailed her arms out, soaring through a moment of horrific-thrilling freefall, then crashed down onto her arse with a truly epic splash.

Oh, _bollocks_.

Ginny's mind went blank, short-circuited by inconceivable amounts of grottiness. Lots of jumping and screaming and hysterical skin scrubbing loomed at her, and she tried to latch onto details -- any detail -- not involving cold, wet filth.

Blue sky outside the cave. Warm air. The rock ceiling, craggy and dripping moisture (no, no, don't think about that). The corner of something dark red and leather poking out the hole in the dragon's nest.

It didn't take even a second. She knew what it was, in her bones, she felt what it had to be. Ginny scrambled onto her knees, crawling through dirty lukewarm water. Without a thought now, she plunged in with her bare hands; digging to widen the hole though mud and decomposing grass caked under her fingernails, and broken edges of twigs scratched long weals on her skin.

Everything had been shoved from her focus but the emerging clean, squared lines.

The shape pulled free with a loud sucking sound, and one sharp corner jabbed her wrist, but she didn't stop to mind it, prying the cover open. Inside were pages as crisp and immaculate white as she had known they would be. Thick spikes of cursive began to bleed to the surface, slowly, in smudged, tight loops.

She couldn't read a bloody word of it, except for one, printed neatly on the first page. A name.

( _staring at her from the bar, eyes smile-less and too bright, familiar_ )

Ginny's head spun crazily. It felt as though all the air had been crushed from her body. "It was you," she whispered, tremors building in her arms and legs. "You did this."

A liquid rush of heat shot over her scalp. Rage shuddered, sizzled up her throat suddenly, like bile, and blood leeched from her knuckles to glow white, gripping the diary's halves so hard her hands trembled. _She should have known, she should have remembered him_...

"Son of a BITCH!" her voice cracked, like the diary's spine bent to breaking; she tore the front cover free, and hurled it against the cave's stone wall, where it struck with a wet slap. "You killed them, you fuck, it was you, IT WAS YOU! IT'S YOUR FAULT THEY'RE DEAD!"

Horrible, scalding grief rang in her ears, a buzzing shriek that drowned out her own screams and the heavy splashing footsteps at the den entrance. She was ripping pages out in fistfuls when Charlie caught her around the elbows, and pinned her against his body; holding her still though she kicked and struggled and cursed him, 'til she was shaking, sweaty, and exhausted, limp and crying wretchedly.

"It's my fault," she sobbed, lying boneless in the filth and her brother's arms. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

Charlie's heart was pounding beneath her shoulder blade, his voice right in her ear. "What are you talking about, Ginny?"

"I saw him, I should've realized...if only I'd said something --" guilt like a sucker punch, like her stomach had opened, black and endless, and her body was falling through from the inside; she looked up at Charlie, bloody-eyed and salt-chapped red cheeked. "Nicu w-would be...he wouldn't..."

She didn't get another word out, before his arms contracted around her, squeezing her almost frantically and shaking his head. "Stop, Ginny, love...no," he tucked her head under his chin, rocking her like she was a little girl. "Isn't your fault -- _nothing's_ your fault."

They would all hate her once they knew. The masochist streak in her rushed into that waiting pain, made her slip free and unclench her fists to give him the handfuls of paper, condemning her for the self-absorption that had allowed this tragedy to occur. Charlie said nothing, eyes flicking as he scanned the pages, mouthing the words silently to himself until something made him choke.

"Son of a bitch," he echoed her hollowly, staring in disbelief. "That bloody traitor," he shook his head, gathering her up to pull both of them to their feet. "Come on."

She nodded, barely hearing, and followed him blankly to the Cleansweep, gripping it with numb fingers, white knuckles.

The return trip was a blur, passing images leeched of light and color by the guilt carving out her insides, crippling regret bitter-metallic in her mouth, nauseating. _Her fault_.

Charlie took her by the hand and led her up to their room, where Panos and Jase were playing cards -- holding tight so she couldn't run as he tossed the pieces of the diary into a startled Jase's lap. "Put that back together while I get the others," said Charlie, then turned to Ginny, cupping her face with one hand and squeezing her own captive one with the other. "Stay here."

Ever perceptive, Panos already had his hand on her back when Charlie let go, gently guiding her to sit beside him. His kindness wrenched tight in her chest, throat closing; she tried to swallow, feeling sick.

She deserved this pain, and so much more.

A muttered spell and tap from his wand had the diary whole again in Jase's grasp. He didn't wait to begin reading, and wasn't a page in before he snapped to sharpest attention, lips flattening into a hard line. His face was grim as stone by the time Charlie returned, discreetly helping crutchless Jas walk, trailing a few steps behind Marika and Reiko.

"What is it?" asked Marika, after one look at him.

Charlie answered instead. "We know who's responsible. For Nicu, the dragons...everything."

Oh God. Ginny's stomach plummeted. They would know, they would know and hate her with every right. She put her hands over her ears, and quietly started to cry. It was better than throwing up, the other thing she felt like doing. Panos's hand was cool on the nape of her neck, soft brown gaze heavy on her skin.

Jaswinder slammed the door shut. "Out with it. Now."

"Karkaroff."

Jase was hardly recognizable speaking, a raw murmur. Everyone stared at him, in varying states of shock; he looked up from the pages, and cleared his throat. When he tried again, his voice was hoarse but steady, eyes the bottom of the sea. "He means Igor Karkaroff."

Marika swore, and sat heavily on the foot of the unoccupied bed, face in her hands. Reiko followed immediately, touching her lover's hair, and looked to them in confusion. "And who the hell is that?" she demanded.

"An ex-Death Eater," said Charlie, taking a seat of his own by Ginny, elbow grazing hers not quite accidentally. "Missing since year before last. We'd thought he was dead, but apparently not."

"He was my old headmaster, and a...mentor," Marika spoke softly, without raising her head. "I...he knew I was Românesc20, like he was...he had told me of his village, in the mountains near Sarmizegetusa," she shuddered. "I did not believe it was him, I swear. There was an old man at market once, but I could not believe...I did not want to..."

It took a moment for the implications to sink in. Everything inside Ginny slowed, icing over. All thought disappeared under the dark, frozen surface, and the dull roar of self-loathing and recrimination in her mind lulled, stunned as the rest of her.

Everyone else seemed a bit dumbfounded as well. "Marika," said Jas, brow furrowed. "D'you mean you saw him?"

She nodded, letting out an unsteady breath. "It, it was as Charlie said. I thought he had been killed, I...told myself it was a sad heart's foolish wish, it could not be him," Marika lifted her face to look at them all, tears running like snow-melt down cheeks gone ashen, anguished. "I should have told you all...but I could not allow myself to see, and Nicu is dead for it. I am as guilty as my teacher."

Marika dropped her gaze, desolate, and Reiko pulled her into her arms, holding her with all the strength of her thin body. "Oh, love, don't ever think that, not ever," she said. "So you spotted him once. Big bloody deal. How were you supposed to know what bollocks he was up to? Who are you, fucking Cassandra, to see the future?"

"She's right," said Jas, stroking Marika's knee comfortingly. "There's no way you could have known. It's him, and only him, that's responsible."

The others all nodded and murmured their agreements. It wasn't Marika's fault. None of them believed that. And if they thought it wasn't her fault, then maybe...maybe they wouldn't think it of Ginny, either. The fist inside her chest began to unclench -- not entirely, though. She knew, as she was certain Marika did, that neither of them were completely innocent.

If they had done differently, there was a chance Nicu would be alive, Nicu and all those Longhorns and even Karkaroff, wretched waste as he'd been.

So maybe they weren't to blame for what Karkaroff had done. But for what they'd done, however unknowingly, to help...yes. Yes, they were. Forgiveness for that, for herself, would be a long time in coming. If ever.

Charlie's hand slipped into hers, warm and tender-rough, and she realized that this was what it meant. This is what it was to grow up.

The afternoon and night slipped away as Jase read the diary aloud, with Charlie translating for her. It felt important for them all to understand first, to hear for themselves, before handing it over to the Ministry.

Karkaroff had indeed been in hiding from the other Death Eaters, living like a hermit among the forests of his home. And it was there he had heard again and remembered a legend from his childhood, of ancient magic more powerful than had been seen for centuries; more powerful than any living wizard possessed.

The seed of a plan to return to You-Know-Who's good graces. The beginnings of true madness.

He had summoned Her in late spring, using deer's blood and his own, cut from his wrist. But over the months, waiting for Her strength to ripen, his corrupt heart had grown blacker and blacker with the temptation of such power. Eventually, the weapon he had intended to harness for his once master, he thought to take for himself instead. 'I will fear nothing of the withered Lord, when I am stronger than death!', he had written.

It was arrogance that undid him, in the end. He'd honestly believed he could control Her.

Chilling, to think what would've happened if he'd been right.

"How could he do this thing?" said Marika afterward, hollowly. "How could he have been so evil?"

There wasn't any answer to give.

None of them slept, choosing to stay and talk together, try to make sense of the senseless. An unspoken wake, because the next day would be Nicu's funeral.

In the morning, everyone at last went their separate ways, to shower and dress and breathe in and out, pretend to get ready for what nobody was ever ready for. Ginny went with Charlie, and tried to help with the clasps on his dress robes, trembling fingers and blurred eyes. Charlie finally caught her hands in his, to still them, and laid his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "Hush, love," he'd murmured, when she began to sob. "It'll be all right."

The service was what she was coming to expect, from her (growing) experience with them. Numb, with icy spikes of regret and fresh pain, sorrow so deep it lived in the marrow of your bones.

She didn't know anyone there, except for the others from camp (Jaswinder-from-London, Panos-from-Athens...God, a life ago), and didn't understand what they were saying anyway, since it was all in Romanian. It was just a haze of people with eyes like his, his smile, the same voice or posture.

What was left after you couldn't cry anymore?

Time crawled on its belly, slowed to endless, and by the end of it, all of them were red-eyed and aching and empty. Supper was as low a point as they'd ever had collectively, and Ginny spent most of it not-eating the soup or the eggs or the sour cream. Panos and Reiko conspired to make her actually get something down, and Charlie tried to bully her into it, but none of them got very far because none of them were really eating, either.

Tomorrow Charlie would take her home. Whatever home was, now. She honestly didn't know. And apparently it was possible to feel worse than she already did, because thinking of that made her feel it. It made her scared to wonder what it would be like, after these last months.

It was worse, knowing the summer would be over. Nothing would ever go back.

She laid awake in the darkness, curled on her side; listening to Panos's gentle breathing and Jase's accompanying soft snores, feeling Charlie's heart beating and his chest rise and fall. This moment had almost not happened. She and Charlie had almost not been here to have heartbeats, or breathe, or lie thinking instead of sleeping. Ginny tried to sort through the mess of emotion sitting in her belly, churning and tangled like yarn.

Sadness, always first now. Guilt and relief, because they were alive when so many others weren't. Confusion. But love, too.

Charlie rolled over, towards her, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if he was asleep or not. Then his hand found her side, tugging her backwards to notch her body into his, and she knew he'd been awake probably like she had been. She turned her head, seeking, and he the Seeker raised up enough to lean over, kiss her, soft and open-mouthed.

No one would ever know this part, when she and everyone else told what happened. It would be the secret history, like Zapada and Soare; it would be the space between words.

Morning came quiet, blurred. She'd packed all her things the night before (including the lovely boots from Charlie -- it felt right to wear her pink shoes home), so there wasn't anything to do except say goodbye to the others. Nobody cried, and that was okay. There'd been enough crying.

Marika and Reiko hugged her, holding hands, left purple lipstick on her cheek and the smell of spiced lotion. "Get some use out of that bloody bra, all right?" said Jas, and punched her arm, bells jangling and smile crooked, even with the dark shadows under her eyes. Panos surprised her by grabbing her and holding tight, twirling her around and around in circles. He told her to come visit him in Athens, they'd go dancing.

Jase was sober, shaking her hand and saying how much they'd liked having her, but when she opened her fingers afterward, there was a slip of paper with the numbers of stations on the WWN who played punking music, and a message that he and Panos would send her Floo coordinates to Greece come Christmas.

Merlin's tits, she'd miss them, the whole daft bloody lot -- dragons, endless complications, and all.

Pangs of it already pierced her, in captive rings like Marika's, Bill's, and her heart felt heavy like rain. It was hard imagining what it'd be like, life as she was now without them in it. Ginny buried the thought and kept a brave face, informing them they were all mad as a bottle of chips, and to drop and roll whenever they caught fire. If her grin wavered a bit, nobody said anything.

Finally Charlie put his hand on her elbow. "You ready?" she nodded; he turned to the others. "I'll be back tomorrow, sometime. Everyone try not to be eaten before then, all right?"

Chorus of 'yeahs', like it was any errand, any day. Throat prickling as she realized that for them, it essentially was. They were already busy planning the next phase, to round up the remaining Longhorns and salvage what they could. "Who knows? Maybe there'll be some eggs cached away on a beach someplace," said Jas excitedly. "Lucky I thought to bring my bikini."

All of them were moving on. There was only her left now.

The Portkey to London was a tiny statuette, of a white rabbit with a pocket watch. Muggle art could be dead bizarre sometimes. She glued her sight on its golden gleam, eyes watering in the madly rushing winds, and tried to put off the sinking inside as motion sickness.

They landed in a narrow alley somewhere, with only rubbish bins and three completely uninterested rats to see their arrival. It was hot and bright out, high summer, with not a cloud in sight. It made her glad she'd worn shorts; the rugby shirt (stolen from one of the twins, ages ago) was definitely better suited to the Carpathians, though.

Charlie seemed immune to weather in his old red windcheater and good jeans (no burnt patches, only one rip in the knee). He brushed himself off, mussing his already hopeless hair even more, then stuck the figurine in his pocket. "Come on, Pinky," he said, putting his arm around her. "We've got places to be."

 _But not the same ones_. Ginny wrapped her own arm around his waist as they walked, and squinted off at the horizon, above the cityscape. The sky was so blue it hurt to look at, just a bit. Its endlessness was...comforting.

Five minutes to reach Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which looked as grim and grotty as ever. "Home, sweet home," said Ginny wryly, pushing the heavy black door open.

Mum was downstairs in the kitchen, tending a giant stew pot and steadily adding to the heaps of baked goods piled over the counters and table. She nearly dropped a sheet of pumpkin biscuits in her rush to wrap them in great hugs, fussing over how thin and exhausted they looked. "Sit down this instant, the both of you. Honestly! It looks as if you haven't been fed properly in years," she scolded, taking two bowls from the dresser, and filled them right to the lip with mutton stew. "Get this down while I'll make you some tea."

Charlie caught her eye, grinning, as they obediently took the bowls. Arguing would probably just get her a second serving. Ginny sighed to herself, picking without interest at her stew. Then the smell of the meat and rich gravy hit her, delicious and familiar, so thick she could almost feel it, taste it. Her mouth watered, stomach growling.

Suddenly starving, Ginny decimated her helping in record time, along with two buns and countless cups of tea. It felt like blood returning to her body.

"Good grief, and I thought Ron was the family shark," came a voice from behind. "Careful not to inhale anything, like silverware."

Ginny didn't have to turn around to know who it was. "Bill!" she cried, and ran to leap on her eldest brother.

Surprised, he still caught her effortlessly. She held tight around his neck, feet dangling and eyes shut, mentally cataloguing changes, the lack of them. Bill smelled like leather and frankincense, and his hair was almost as long as hers now. A new silver barbell glinted in his eyebrow. He was alive. He was alive and whole, and they'd all lived through the summer.

"Hello to you, too," he laughed, setting her back on the ground, then grinned at Charlie. "What, no hug from my ickle brother?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't know. Go find an 'ickle' brother and ask _him_ , toerag," he said, but got up all the same to embrace Bill, clapping him manfully on the back. "S' good to see you."

A quiet second passed, them just holding onto each other. No one else would've noticed, but suspicion crawled along Ginny's spine, thoughtful and cold. Then they broke apart, Bill keeping one arm thrown around him. He ruffled Charlie's hair. "It's been too bloody long. Don't wait so long to come around next time, you silly git."

"Aye, aye, sir," muttered Charlie, but he was smiling. So was Mum. Everybody loved Bill.

The fresh tea was hot, almost scalding. Ginny added another few lumps of sugar, then took a sip, and held it in her mouth, feeling the bittersweet burn all through her body. She loved him, too.

Ron was there of course, sunburnt and cheerful, and the twins as well. Everyone had come home all at once, it seemed.

_Except Percy. Except that it wasn't home._

Supper was chaotic as it had always been, an explosion of red hair and chatter and temper and laughter. Fred and George were discreetly flinging peas at Ron, who took it with better humor than usual. The hols must have set well with him. Mum harangued Bill about his new piercing and breakup with Fleur Delacour, while Dad and Charlie played mellow counterpoint as they had since forever; talking about the Cannons' new Beater and work at the Ministry.

It was like a thousand meals they'd had before. There wasn't -- wasn't any reason it should be awkward. Yet Ginny said only a word or two, allowing herself to fade into the noise, and barely touched her food. Her whole body felt disjointed, heavy, head wide open and out of sync. Light was harsh, seeped in from the top of her eyes to fill her cotton-packed skull.

Unease clung to her skin like patchouli oil, too thick and sick-cloying. She tried to push the feeling away, but everywhere was something else. Fred and George still teasing, but looking like grown men now, sharper. Charlie's eyes always tracking Bill, who underneath his charm was always tracking back.

Ron and his new sideburns. Ron grinning the widest, laughing the hardest. Ron taller and stronger and happier than ever after the summer, when all she'd got was older.

What would they see, looking at her?

After dessert, Bill volunteered to help Mum with the dishes, and the twins dragged Dad off to test their new product, playing cards that provided extremely biased commentary in a voice suspiciously like Lee Jordan's. Charlie didn't say anything, but gave her shoulder a squeeze as he passed, trailing quietly along to the kitchen. For some reason, her chest ached thinking of it.

Utterly cracked, that's what it was. Ginny shook her head, and made to go to her room, maybe sleep away this sense like everything was happening too close. She'd got one foot on the stairs when Ron grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "Hey!" she stumbled, managing to catch herself but just barely, then socked him in the arm. "Merlin's sac! What'd you do that for, you giant mental case?"

"This," Ron ripped a crumpled, much-abused scrap of paper out of his pocket, and shoved it at her. It was her letter card...thing. "And what it's supposed to mean, exactly."

Right...that. She flushed, pulling her arm away from him. "I sent you a letter explaining that."

"No, you sent a letter saying that I'm a prick but you love me heaps, and oh yeah, don't worry," he said, the last words dripping with sarcasm. "So please excuse me for not gleaning any answer from that, except that you're totally off your nut."

In retrospect, she supposed she could've been a bit clearer. Well, bugger. Ginny sat down on the foot of the staircase, and sighed, pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Didn't think you'd get so worked up," she said. "I thought you'd be used to that sort of thing by now, with all the nonsense you lunatics are always getting mixed up in."

Ron snorted. "Are you mad? I was halfway to sodding Romania when you owled the second time. Do you know what that trip is like on a broom?" he plopped down beside her, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're my sister, twit. I worried like hell -- I will always worry like hell if you're in danger of snuffing it, _especially_ if it's on top of some fucking mountain a thousand kilometers away."

"Oh," she winced, conscience putting its teeth to her. Self-absorption was so much easier when you were on your own. "Did you tell Mum and Dad?"

"Did Mum come drag you home by the ear?" he said dryly, then looked away, eyes dropped. "No, I didn't say anything. You know I wouldn't."

A surge of tenderness in her heart, because yeah, she _had_ known and that's why she'd owled him. Ron was good at discreet, at least when it came to stupidly risking your life. God, she'd missed him, she'd missed all of them so much, and come so close to never seeing any of them again. She closed her eyes, warm-wet stinging, and laid her head on his shoulder; his tee-shirt was new, crisp against her cheek.

"Gin?" murmured Ron, startled.

She buried her face, breathing in the smell of laundry soap, the cologne he'd begun wearing. "I'm really glad we're here."

Ron went quiet; he knew that 'here' didn't mean London, or the stairwell. "Me, too," he said after a minute, and took her hand. They remained like that, not speaking, until the sound of footsteps up from the basement reached them. Ginny moved first, erasing, and they could've been sitting for any reason when Bill and Charlie appeared.

They were chatting and laughing about something, Charlie's shoulder grazing Bill's bicep. Jealousy did not flare blinding burning stabbing all over her. The landing was just stuffy. And overheated. Of course.

Bill came to a dramatic halt, stopping Charlie with an extended elbow, and eyed them in highly theatrical suspicion. "All right, you two, the jig is up. It's no use pretending innocence, as we have in fact actually met you before, and know it for bollocks," he teased, and held up his fists, play-fighting Ron. "Particularly this rough bastard -- look at those eyes! Curse your bits off soon as look at you, I bet."

"Sooner, with a face like yours," grinned Ron, slipping punches like a boxer and floored them all by actually sneaking a jab past Bill's guard, catching him clean on the chin.

Charlie hooted and clapped while Ginny covered her mouth, hiding a laugh. Bill shook off the hit, and cackled, grabbing his little brother around the neck. "Oo, look out, got a real hard man here," he tousled Ron's hair, and cuffed him on the back of the head; pride shone in his beaming face. It was obvious what they'd spent at least part of the summer doing.

It was sweet, in a...demented sort of way. Which was typical where her brothers were concerned, actually.

The front door opening jerked her attention away. "My! It seems the prodigals have all returned," said a familiarly soft, slightly hoarse voice that could only belong to Remus Lupin. He looked shabby and tired as ever, a thin smile warming his peaked, careworn face as he stepped inside, suitcase in hand.

"Remus!" said Bill, and (after one final noogie) released his hold of Ron to go shake Lupin's hand. "I thought you weren't due back for days yet."

"A slight, er, adjustment of plans," his smile became somewhat abashed. "Cornish Pixies are quite...enamored of wolfsbane. My supply in particular, it would appear," he coughed, and gracefully redirected the conversation, searching out amongst the mob of red. "Ah, Ginny, Charlie. Just the Weasleys I wanted to speak with. How is Romania?"

They exchanged a glance. "It's well," said Charlie, and sounded as if he meant it. "There was a bad patch, but I think that's finished now."

Remus's gaze was calm, friendly -- but there was a piercing quality to it, too, that made her uncomfortable. A keen intelligence lay behind that deceptively mild stare. "Good, good, I'm pleased to hear it. But I'm also very pleased to be so near a bed, so if you'll excuse me, I shall go take advantage of that," as he passed through to the stairs, Lupin paused beside Ginny. "Thank you for the chocolate, by the way. Very thoughtful of you," his eyes sharpened on hers a moment, before returning to their former easy nature. "Well, goodnight then."

A chorus of 'goodnights' followed him up the darkened stairwell. Ron shot her a meaningful look behind Bill's back; she bit her lip, and ignored it.

Mum discovered them shortly after, and shooed Ron and Ginny off to their rooms, to rest at least if they wouldn't actually sleep. "Come on," she said, herding the both of them along, protesting (Ron) and resigned (Ginny) alike. "It's been a long day."

"Really, Mum, I think they're old enough to decide whether they're tired or not --" Bill stopped dead at the look she leveled him. "Erm, I mean...dreadfully late, isn't it? Far too late for...people...er...what a lovely brooch. Is it new?"

Defying typical universal order, Charlie did the safe thing for once, which was to wave and wish them a good night's sleep.

Ginny's stop came first, which she was not ungrateful for. Even through the door, she could still hear Ron's voice arguing with Mum, all the way to his room on the second floor. She didn't bother unpacking her things, since they'd just be leaving for Hogwarts in a few days, anyway. Instead, she sat quietly on the bed, and looked around.

It felt strange, to be back in her old room at Grimmauld Place. Like things should all be radically different, or crumbling to bits or something. That was actually the overall sense she'd been having since her arrival. Like nothing should be the same, because she wasn't. Except maybe she was, and it was everybody else who'd changed and she was lost, playing keep-up.

Balls, her head was killing her. In at least two ways, possibly hundreds (she wouldn't put it past). The light on her eyes made it worse, so she squeezed them shut, burying her head under a pillow for good measure.

Sleep wasn't surprising. She awoke without realizing it at first, reverse-fading into twilight consciousness; she did not exist, then did, with no clear dividing line between. The clock's ticking reverberated in her skin. There wasn't any sound aside from that, which made it seem louder.

The pillow had gotten hot and damp from her breathing, and her lungs sort of hurt from the effort. She chucked it away, and sat up, squinting blearily at the time. It was just after two o'clock. Five hours, then.

Her mouth felt and tasted like something had nested, given birth, then died inside it. _Water_ , thought Ginny, almost feeling it on her tongue, cool and delicious. She rolled off the bed, stretching to try and ease her stiff muscles, and shuffled out from her room, zombie-like.

The light was still on in the drawing room. Very curious.

Wide awake now, she crept toward the open door, and peeked inside. It was Bill and Charlie, lounging together on one of the sofas and well into a bottle of brandy. They were talking quietly. Ginny strained to hear what they said, fill in the gaps with body language.

Bill leaned forward to refill his glass, chuckling at something, and his collar stretched open, enough so the candlelight glinted off a thin filigree chain around his neck. Heartbeat quick came Charlie's hand, and Ginny caught her breath as he caught the chain. Her ears buzzed with the intensity of trying to listen. "--lieve you still wear this old thing," he said, running the glimmering, delicate strand between his fingers. A pale, crescent-shaped object dangled from it.

"Of course. You gave it to me, didn't you?" murmured Bill, and his eyes were on Charlie's face, warm and summer-sky clear, drawing in.

It was a dragon's tooth necklace.

Ginny spun away, not wanting to see the heavy-soft darkening of Charlie's gaze, Bill looking at him like, like. She opened her eyes, aching dry, and found herself downstairs somehow, no memory of getting there. Her body didn't feel connected, like floating, and she floated down further to the kitchen, blindly following the last sensible direction from her brain: get water.

And nearly collided face-first with Remus. "Ginny!" he startled, nearly losing grip on his sandwich. "You scared me. What on earth are you doing awake?"

Words. She knew how to use those, yes. Her mouth opened, though, and nothing came out; all she could do was stand there, making little airy sounds.

Remus stared at her, half curiously and half with alarm. "Is everything okay?" he asked, frowning slightly, and touched her shoulder; she jerked back, would've tripped if he hadn't caught her arm. He tugged her into the crook of one elbow, and gingerly steered her to the table. "All right, let's have a sit-down, shall we? There now."

He helped her onto a chair, waiting a moment to see if she'd stay on or fall, before pulling up a chair of his own. "Sorry," she managed at last, feeling the blush spread up all the way to vanish into her hair. "I'm...sorry."

Her knuckles were white, bloodless, from clenching her fists so tightly. Dull fascination, there, because she hadn't felt herself doing it at all, not even the bite of her nails into palms. Lupin followed her gaze, and covered her hands with his, uncurling them gently. "No harm done," he smiled faintly, sympathy and fatigue softening the angular lines of his face. "I was very sorry to hear about your friend, Nicu."

Wait. What?

The abrupt shift in subject set her head reeling. "Excuse me?" blurted Ginny, struggling to form some type of actual, coherent reply. "How did you know...?"

"Recognized the name, when Charlie owled. I stayed with his family once upon a time," said Remus, summoning two cups of tea with a flick of his wand. "I've spent quite awhile in Romania, on and off. They're more tolerant, there, of those with my affliction. Sugar?" she shook her head; he added some to his own cuppa, stirring absently. "It was many years back, after James and Lily -- went. I was very unwell, and the Silivasis took me into their home, cared for me when I had no care for myself. They treated me with great kindness, when they had no obligation to."

Ginny swallowed around the lump in her throat. "You knew Nicu?"

Lupin nodded. "He was only a little boy at the time, but yes," he turned his head, looking off into space. "Quite the rascal, always getting into trouble, but there was...was such a sweetness to him as well."

The tight, burning knot in her chest erupted, face crumpling, spilling out her eyes, and she scrubbed at them viciously, fought to keep from crying. "Oh," wavering, and a choked, pathetic sob burst out. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but it wouldn't stop coming, she couldn't stop them.

There was just so much...pain...that opened endless deep and tears could never fill its void, not tears or shame or bitter, bitter regret. Nicu was lost, everything he would ever have been and done, and she and Charlie had made such a fucking mess of themselves, she didn't know how to begin fixing it.

Silent, Remus stroked her hair as she regained control, delicately unobtrusive, and offered her his handkerchief after. "Good girl," he said as she wiped her face. "Better to get it all out."

Oh sweet Merlin's arse. She'd just _bawled_ in front of someone, a grown man who used to be her _professor_ of all people possible. Absolute mortification withered her insides. "I'm sorry," she said again, horrified. "I -- I'm not usually such a blubbering git."

"Bollocks," said Lupin mildly, placing her cuppa back into her hands. "Don't ever apologize for being sad. Look at me, now," he tipped her chin up with a finger, looking deeply into her face. "No matter how awful it feels now, try to remember that it won't always be like this. Time...softens the edge, of _any_ pain. Do you understand?"

Ginny nodded.

He smiled again, sad-eyed and shadowed, older than anyone should ever have to be. "Good," he patted her knee, climbing to his feet. "Come on. It's long past both of our bedtimes, I believe."

One more oddity in a summer full of them, to be escorted to her room by Remus Lupin. "Thank you," she said once they'd arrived, and meant it down to the last fiber of her heart.

"You're more than welcome," said Lupin, and inclined his head. "And may I say, growing up suits you quite well."

With that said, he vanished down the hall. Ginny stood at her door, listening to his footsteps fade. She should go to bed, she knew. Really.

The light was still on.

Ginny didn't give herself enough time to consider what a completely rubbish idea this was, just set her jaw and walked straight into the drawing room.

Charlie was the only one there, drowsing moodily. He jolted fully awake at the door slamming shut. "Gin," he said, and rubbed his face, blinking against the light. "What's going on? Are you all right?"

His concern was obvious, genuine. It made her whole body clench in misery. "You're going to run out of dragon parts, if you keep tossing out necklaces at this rate," she spat. Anger was easier -- anger didn't hurt just you. "What's next, claws for Ron? Pair of eyes for Fred and George, or kidneys? Maybe Percy would speak to us again if you gave him a _heart_."

All the air went out of Charlie's lungs, and he shut his eyes. "It's not like that," he said, too reasonable. "Ginny, please --"

She ripped the pendent from her neck, and hurled it at him. "I'm not anyone's fucking _replacement_ , Charlie," she cried. "If Bill's what you want, then fine, that's super, fucking fantastic for you. But don't make me into some kind of placeholder for him."

He shot to his feet, reaching for her. "I'd never do that to anyone, let alone you. Christ, let me explain, would you?"

"Go to hell! Don't you bloody touch me!" Ginny shoved him away, spun on heel and made to storm out, but he was faster, grabbed and tackled her onto the sofa, pinning her under his body so she couldn't leave. She cursed him for it, writhing and twisting. "Let me go, you bastard, let go!"

"Ginny, stop and just LISTEN to me a minute, for fuck's sake!" he yelled, and shook her, hard. It shocked her into freezing, into actually being able to hear him. "Everything that happened between Bill and me was over ages ago. It doesn't have a thing to do with you, and it certainly doesn't with what happened between _us_."

It killed her that she was on the verge of bursting into tears again, and he knew. The rage deflated, because it'd been empty to begin with. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

He stared down at her, breathing hard and eyes filled. After a minute, he slid off of her onto the floor, and leaned back against the kickboard, compulsively raking his fingers through his hair. "I couldn't," then more softly. "I didn't...want you to know I was making this mistake again. Didn't want you to think you were just another notch on the family tree," he laughed bitterly, almost crying. "Fuck, that's wrong...all this is. I'm so sorry, Ginny."

The anguish and guilt in his face struck her. She'd never seen her strong, solid brother look so...lost, not even during the worst in Romania, in the cave.

Ginny climbed down beside him. "It's not your fault," at his look, she corrected herself. "Not _all_ your fault," she sighed, speaking gently. "Look, it was us together, us and the situation. When everything gets so awful and bizarre and desperate...sometimes things happen you don't mean to."

Charlie wiped his face with his palms and breathed deep, then looked at her. "When did you get so smart?" he asked, red rims making his eyes look bluer than ever.

"It's the shoes," said Ginny, absolutely deadpan. "Pink is a really sharp color, y'know."

Surprised chuckle from him, thick and mucous-y. Absently, she wished for Remus's handkerchief. "God, what a wreck," sighed Charlie, and slipped away into thought, working up to say something. "That Sixth Year I lost my virginity with was Bill's girlfriend. It was such an awful thing to do, didn't even understand why I did it, why I hated her so much," he shook his head ruefully. "He was so angry when he found out. Came and kicked the ever-loving crap from me on the Quidditch pitch, told me to stop using people to get at him, and just get _him_ , if that's what I was after. So I did."

Ginny was quiet a moment, digesting. "What happened?"

"Not much," he stared at his lap, old-pain blank. "Only happened a few times, ended when he left school. We...it wasn't on, we knew it wasn't. So we don't anymore," Charlie took her hand, palm-to-palm, so tenderly she knew what he would say. "Just like we won't."

She'd known. She didn't want any different.

It still hurt.

"Yeah," she said, and sniffed gruffly, bit her lip to stop it from trembling. After all, she had _some_ dignity left. "I was getting sick of you, anyway."

He smiled, soft and warm and everything in him that she loved, and though her heart still leapt when he pressed a kiss to her temple, it was all right. The pang felt sort of good, in a way.

Bittersweet. "I love you, Pinky," he whispered into her hair.

The true quality of forgiveness meant ending pain, and letting go of it. Sometimes love meant that, too. Ginny put her arms around his neck, closing her eyes. "I love you, too."

Charlie would leave the next day. Dragons await no man.

Everyone got a hug, Dad telling him to visit again soon, Bill clasping him like they'd never touched each other in the dark, and she did the same. Bill was better at it, but he had more practice. She'd be as good at it someday. Mum cried as always during the goodbye, part of her heart going with him as it did all her children. Ginny remained dry-eyed, dry-mouthed, dragon scale hanging from the mended cord and heavy again at her breast, blue-flashing green and warm. It felt like there was a hole in the center of her body.

Afterward, Bill put his arm over her shoulders. "Nothing's ever really gone, you know," he said, seemingly out of nowhere. "Matter can't be destroyed, it just changes forms. Means that once something exists, it always does, in one shape or another," there was meaning in the look he gave her that none of the others would understand. She did, though.

Ginny slipped her own arm around his waist, and laid her head against his chest. His heart beat faster than Charlie's, but slower than hers. She wondered about the worlds inside all her brothers. "C'mon," she said. "Let's go inside and lose at wizard chess to Ron."

They all spent the last days before Hogwarts mostly together, mucking around London with Bill and visiting the twins at their shop. Once while she looked through Muggle musical 'seedies', which were shiny little flat things (weird but sort of fascinating), Ron and Bill disappeared. They returned about half an hour later, looking far too pleased with themselves. "What?" asked Ginny, eyeballing them with mistrust.

Ron didn't say anything, just grinned and yanked up his shirt. A rainbow-swirled metal ring hung from his left nipple, which looked red and a little swollen. "Isn't it wicked?"

Ginny shook her head and laughed. "Mum's going to kill you both," she said, but smiled. It did look pretty brill.

The night before they left, she and Ron camped out together in his room, talking for hours. At last she gave him an (edited) account of her strange, harrowing summer. He yelled at her for being an idiot, and hugged her, then yelled some more. "I swear, if you ever do anything so bloody stupid again without _me_ , I will spare them the effort and fucking kill you myself!"

In turn, he recounted their own escapades -- Bill getting called back to Egypt, and tagging along with him, to see the pyramids and the desert. Of course, they ended up being caught up in intrigue, fraught with danger. The last week had been a terrible, exciting race against time, searching for a powerful scarab talisman before it fell into the hands of an evil, long-dead pharaoh.

As usual, it was simple spells that saved the day; Bill had used ' _Accio_!' to pluck the talisman from a minion's grasp. But it was Ron who had crashed through a room full of mummified soldiers, and leapt through a magical sandstorm to behead the pharaoh, before he could finish the Killing Curse meant for Bill.

"Merlin's hairy arse," said Ginny. "Aren't any of us capable of _avoiding_ mortal peril?"

Ron had scratched his belly thoughtfully. "Dunno. Maybe Harry's contagious, and we've all caught it from him."

"I didn't know that 'hopeless nutter' was an infectious condition," she said, rolling her eyes.

They fell asleep curled around each other on his bed, comrades in a way that hadn't been before. She and Ron were both veterans of their own misadventures now.

The morning was absolute pandemonium -- Ron racing around, packing in a blind panic, and Mum alternately roaring at and stuffing them with food. Fred and George's 'bon voyage' Howlers were the perfect cherry on top. She muddled through, not even approaching conscious, managing to drip porridge down her sleeve, butter her hand, and nearly use Ron's cologne as mouthwash.

He snatched the bottle away from her just in time, staring at her like there were badgers coming out her ears. "Bit knackered today, are we?" he cooed. She flicked him the V.

It was absolutely normal, which left her with that displaced feeling in her belly. As if 'normal' had shifted a few degrees to the left, and she hadn't quite caught up yet. Or maybe it was the other way 'round. Maybe it was 'normal' that needed to catch up to _her_. She liked the sound of that better.

She'd be the one moving ahead, then.

Harry and Hermione would be meeting them at the station, so it was a much smaller entourage to Kings Cross this year. Bill had come up with a practical idea for once (involving no deadly stunts or potential raisings of inconvenient zombies): miniaturizing their trunks.

Made the twenty minute walk a hell of a lot more pleasant, carrying their luggage in their pockets. Ron was practically capering, frolicking around though it made Pig twitter madly in his cage and chattering about their chances for the Cup, poking Ginny 'til she had to discreetly sock him.

It was all right, though. He was only excited to be going back to real life at Hogwarts (understandable; she'd had quite enough of summer limbo herself). Ginny tried to feel it as well, which she recognized as a stupid idea from the start. How could you try to feel something? You either did or you didn't.

No invisible magic barriers or Dementors or armies of rampaging Heliopaths stopped them from entering platform nine and three-quarters, for a refreshing change. Traveling sans Harry had its perks, that was sure.

Ginny released the breath she'd been holding, and took in her surrounding. The people milling around, hundreds of owls in all shapes and sizes -- the First Years looking smaller and more scared than ever. It was like slipping into cool, dark water after an eternity of July.

Summer was really over.

A familiar cap of messy black hair wended through the crowd toward her. She smiled. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi," he panted, dragging a gigantic trunk behind him with one hand and gripping Hedwig's cage with the other. Sweat glistened on his face. "Ran out of carts...had to lug everything through whole bloody station. Books weigh at least one ton, maybe more. Death looking welcome. You?" Ginny wordlessly took her trunk from her pocket to show him, which fit in the palm of her hand. Harry glared death at her. "I hate you."

She laughed evilly.

Ron appeared with Bill in tow, and immediately pounced on Harry, bombarding him with questions about his hols and almost nonsensically unconnected bits of his own. Bill shook his head, and grinned. "Here, let me take care of your trunk," she set it on the ground, and in the blink of an eye, it was normal-sized again. Ginny checked inside to make sure all her belongings had enlarged as well.

Mum and Dad weren't far behind. Mum hugged them all, clucking over how skinny Harry still was, and telling them to be good and not do anything foolish. "You've got to admire her optimism," whispered Ron; she coughed to cover a snicker.

Afterwards, Bill shoved a package into her hands. It was a tiny, violently purple portable Wireless. "Happy belated birthday, sis," he said, cuffing her ear. "Didn't think I'd forgot, did you?"

She shook her head, swallowing hard -- Bill never forgot. "Thank you," Ginny threw her arms around him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. "Going to miss you loads, you daft sod."

"Codswallop," he quipped, but hugged her tightly, pressing his face to her hair. Mum was surely misty-eyed, looking on. "Keep Ron out of too much trouble, all right?"

"Bill, they don't allow murder at school."

He laughed, rumbling under her cheek, then finally let her go. Lot of that going around.

The warning whistle sounded, and then it was all rushing around, getting their things aboard and last minute goodbyes. They ran into Hermione at the edge of the platform, and she slipped into Ron and Harry's excited chatter without a seam. Ginny was content to listen. It surprised her, how easily she was falling back into the rhythm of things.

Time softens the edges.

"You'll never believe what happened in Greece," exclaimed Hermione as they were climbing onto the Express. "There was a series of attacks around the Parthenon, and they thought it was maybe Death Eaters. But actually this silly warlock had woken Medusa, and I ended up having to nick Perseus's shield from a museum to petrify her again --"

"Didn't anyone else spend all break bored off their nut, doing absolutely nothing?" asked Harry desperately.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate."

"There you are!" said Professor McGonagall, striding down the corridor toward them. "I've been looking everywhere for you. There's something urgent I need to speak with you about," she lowered her voice. "Since the beginning of summer, we've been hearing more and more reports of occurrences, peculiar ones. We have..." she glanced around quickly, to see if anyone was listening, then satisfied they weren't, she continued. "We have reason to believe that at the Department of Mysteries, you children might've stumbled across some type of cursed artifact."

The four of them were momentarily stunned into silence. Then it sank in, and everyone was talking all at once. "What do you mean, 'cursed'?" demanded Harry. "What kind of _curse_?"

"We haven't been able to find out much yet," McGonagall's mouth was a hard, thin line; this was obviously a sore point. "What we _do_ know is that, whatever the exact nature of this curse, it -- well, it seems to attract the bizarre."

Ron elbowed Ginny. "Told you it was contagious."

And as horrible as this all was, however dire it would doubtlessly end up being, Ginny really couldn't help but laugh. A curse. Well, that certainly explained a lot. She wondered what pure bollocks would find them next, now that all of them would be together in one great, unlucky clump. It was a hilariously awful thought.

There were, of course, loads of questions they wanted answered, but people were beginning to notice something dodgy going on. Professor McGonagall ended the discussion with orders to keep their eyes open, and a message that Dumbledore wanted to see them directly after the feast.

Spirits had understandably been taken down a notch. Still half in shock, they drifted off to claim a compartment for themselves. "You stay with us, Ginny," said Harry, looking grim. "I don't want you separated in case anything out of the ordinary starts happening."

"Is it sad that getting cursed doesn't count as 'out of the ordinary' anymore?" snorted Ron.

It took all of a minute to round up Neville and Luna, who'd found each other early and had been searching them out as well. Both had grown taller, older looking. But they all had over that summer, hadn't they? "Thank you for sending me that hat, Ginny, it was really nice," said Neville as he'd sat down, and there was long scar on one side of his face now, that missed his eye by only a centimeter or so. "I wish I was that good at knitting."

Which was probably the most frightening thing she'd heard all day.

The entire ride to Hogwarts was spent trading tales of their respective, apparently cursed summer hols. Luna's father had been stolen by the Queen of the Faeries in Scotland, and she'd had to journey under the Green-Hill, into the faerie court to rescue him with only her wits and a length of iron chain.

Meanwhile, Neville and his cousin had run afoul of a vampire cult, trying to awaken some ancient alien being under the ocean, and had just barely stopped them from raising the submerged city where it slept. "Then we spent three weeks in St. Mungo's, reproducing most of our blood," he shuddered. "If I ever see a Boggart again, it'll probably look like a bowl of their liver stew."

And true to his word, Harry had had exactly nothing interesting or awful happen -- more awful than life with the Dursleys, that is. "Maybe that counts as cursed enough," he grumbled. None of them would be surprised.

Listening, Ginny thought about her own story, the bits she'd left out, and wondered if she was the only one. What were their secret histories? Twinge of sadness there, because really, she'd never know. It was just the way of things. Everyone was made up of the spaces between words.

Departure was familiar chaos. Hagrid shouting to the terrified First Years, students racing around collecting stray pets and knocking into one another, dragging trunks. Harry dropped his directly onto his foot, cursing a blue streak until Hermione glared at him and pointed out the group of shocked eleven-year-olds in earshot, gaping at the Boy Who Lived And Apparently Must Have Been Raised By Longshoremen.

The six of them didn't stand out, dodging through the throngs as politely as half a dozen teenagers with luggage could. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about them, except for Harry's scar and that was hardly news.

It was all something internal that had changed, that set them apart now. "Merlin," breathed Neville, as they stood peering around. "They all look so..."

"Young," finished Hermione.

"Totally unprepared," said Ron faintly, ashen.

Luna gave them one of her quiet, queerly profound looks. "Haven't they always been?"

Was that true? Ginny looked into the laughing, unguarded faces of girls from her year, and knew that Luna was right. It was genuinely scary, to think of what could so easily happen to these sleepwalking children. Most of them wouldn't stand a chance against the things she and the others had survived this summer. No wonder Snape called them all idiots.

The carriages were lined up and waiting. In her head, she'd known what to probably expect, what they'd be like -- but it still struck her like a spray of ice to actually see the thestrals with her own eyes. She couldn't keep the horror from her face, staring at their reptilian, skeletal bodies, screaming fundamental _wrongness_.

Harry glanced at her, comprehension and sadness washing over his face. "You get used to them after awhile," he murmured, and patted her arm, only a little awkward. Neville had the same look she did, pale and shaky, and that made her sick with aching.

A ripple of commotion distracted them, as a wedge of Slytherins shoved through the crowd. Malfoy was at the head, sneering and snapping as always, but there was a new edge to it, sharper. It dawned on her that this was the first trip he hadn't stopped by to harass them, not even once. Evidently, they hadn't been the only ones growing up over the break.

Everything was changing.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years, this way!"

Ginny took the Wireless out of her pocket, and dialed it to one of the stations from Jase's note, then switched it on. Punking music immediately blared out, all buzzing guitar and drums and yelling, snarl-laughing voices going on about something to do with saving a queen.

"What the hell is that?" asked Ron, halfway between appalled and intrigued.

Harry smiled, bewildered yet amused. "The Sex Pistols."

"The _what_?"

She didn't hear Harry's explanation or Ron's next outbursts, or Hermione explaining Muggle government to Neville, or any of the sounds of the masses around them. Ginny had turned inward, fading them all to background, everything except her thoughts.

Voldemort was out there somewhere, gathering power and desperate to kill Harry, and drown them all in the lightless black of his shadow. There was an untold count of Death Eaters, sleepers hidden and working quietly, fervently; waiting for just one moment, just one slip on their part. And now on top of it all, there was a curse they knew nothing about, that would draw God only knew what calamity to them next.

It'd be a miracle if they survived to Christmas.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny examined the others. Ron heroic and pierced and easy with himself, talking Quidditch with Harry who laughed now, who wasn't lost in seething, angry isolation. Hermione's eyes intense, ablaze thinking, already working through what objects could've been the cursed one. Neville showing Luna his new wand, flourishing it with an assurance she'd never seen in him before.

None of them were okay. But they looked a bit of all right.

Sod it. She grinned wryly to herself, a giddy surge of unfounded, completely demented certainty tingling all through her. In five minutes, she'd probably come back to her senses and be scared again like a reasonable person, but until then, she wasn't scared at all. She felt almost chuffed.

Screw whatever disaster du jour waited around the next corner -- they could take it. They'd kick its arse. Dark Lords, scheming bastards, monsters and creatures of all kinds...throw on the bloody kettle and bring them on. If she made it through Romania, she could make it through anything.

Whatever was coming, she'd be ready.

"Come on, boys and girls," called Ginny cheerfully, hoisting her trunk. "Let's go."

Ready and knitting.

 

o o o

  
_From sorrow to serenity_  
it's on your head  
(Killswitch Engage - "My Last Serenade"  


  


  
_Take my soul, I_  
break my heart, I'm  
ready when you are  
(Further Seems Forever- "Someone You Know")  


  


  
_I wonder what's next?_  
(Chevelle - "Wonder What's Next")  


o o o

20 Românesc - Romanian (adj.)

21 Cthulu, the Great Old One of Lovecraftian fame

o o o

Originally written 7/17/05.

 **End notes** : Decebalus and Sarmizegetusa did in fact exist, and yes, Emperor Traianus really did have Apolodor of Damascus build him a bridge to cross the Danube. Real historical facts have been slightly tweaked, in the grand tradition of Harry Potter.

This has been quite a long ride. Thanks for coming along for it.


End file.
